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milesmolasses · 2 years ago

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braid my hair f’ me (miles morales x blk!reader)

— the thoughts have been thunken. I thunked the thoughts

— made em real cute for y’all

— ⚠️: cursing, reader n miles being silly goof balls

the night was peaceful, with sounds of the city blaring outside of your open windows. you found yourself turning to your boyfriend to tell him all the gossip happening within your school, and he was actively listening and engaging with you in conversation. you showed him pictures on instagram of the people you were talking about so he could keep up with names and visuals, and it wasn’t until near the end of your gossiping when you realized miles stopped responding.

it looked like he’d zoned out completely, just looking in front of him with his eyebrows furrowed.

"baby?" you asked, snapping your fingers in his face.

like a wake up call, his head bobbed up to look at you with wide eyes. "hmm?"

"are you ok, think I lost you for a sec," you snorted. miles contorted his face as he shook his head stuttering.

"it’s nothin' I jus- I mean- you think- ugh," miles groaned as his head flew back.

"it’s ok take your time," you teased with a small giggle. if miles was struggling to tell you something this hard, it was probably extremely embarrassing or he did something. you’d hoped it was the latter.

he sighed as he mumbled with his head hung low, "that guy— Tristan— you think his braids would look good on me?"

you looked at him with unbelievably wide eyes and a look on your face that screamed "you’re joking." and it was in that moment you realized; oh my god, miles morales wants to get his hair done.

"y’know, I thought this day would never come," you mumbled looking at the ceiling.

you heard him suck his teeth and you looked back at him to see his back turned looking away from you bashfully. miles had never been bashful before.

it was then when you began to giggle uncontrollably. you leaned into your bed frame from where you were on the floor, and you just couldn’t contain your fit of laughter. once he thought the laughter had settled down, he asked, "yeah y-you done now?"

this only set you into another short-lived fit of laughter. you were laughing so hard and so loud, that miles swore your parents could hear you from downstairs.

soon enough, you were panting and coming down from your high only to face an unamused miles with his back facing you. you crawled over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind.

"you know… I can braid your hair," you chirped. he looked back to see the side your face smooshed into his back with a grin.

after a beat of silence, you heard a soft "hm" from miles.

"that’s not a no," you said as you poked his shoulder. he thought about it for a second, whether or not it was a good idea to let you do this.

for the few months you guys have been dating he wouldn’t let you touch his head, claiming to be tender headed and that the only person allowed to braid his hair was his mother. he said that she had “the touch,” whatever that meant.

"she’s just the only person who’s soft on my head!"

"miles have you ever even gone to anyone besides your mom?" you asked in disbelief.

"…no"

since then, you’ve let it go after much teasing and humiliation towards your boyfriend.

"imma just ask my mom if she’ll braid it—"

"milesss c’monnnn! I swear i’ll get you looking right and I won’t grip too hard. please?" you pleaded. you hooked your finger under his chin to guide his eyes to your pleading one’s. for a second he looked unamused, but then you swore you saw his lip twitch upward.

"ok, fine. I will allow you to braid my hair just this once." baffled were you at this sentence as you pulled away from him.

"ALLOW ME?! baby say it with your chest, you know damn well you WANT me to braid your head," you sassed.

he chucked, "actin’ like you ain’t just beg me to let you braid my hair-"

"ahhhhh that never happened! I am erasing your memory, that never happened. you WANT me to braid your hair," you quickly said as you rubbed his scalp imitating mind control.

miles laughed as he grabbed your hands as he led you to the bathroom with him.

after making miles sit in a chair for 15 minutes under your sink, and running shampoos and conditioners throughout his scalp, it was time to blow dry.

you sat him down in your bedroom near your dresser with all the supplies laid on the table.

miles shifted uncomfortably in his chair and he kept looking back at you plugging in the dryer with worry in his eyes.

"miles, the blow dryer will not blow you away. you have nothing to worry about," your voice dragged. you watched in amusement as he dragged his hand down his face and a deep sigh came from his mouth.

not turning the dryer on just yet, you got to work on parting his hair into fourths, clipping back sections as you went on. finally, it was time for poor miles to face his biggest fear; the blow dryer.

he heard the whirlwind sound as soon as you flipped the switch. he winced once he felt the warm air coming to his scalp, "WAIT!"

"lord have mercy," you said over the blow dryer. you turned it off completely. "what is it miles?"

"w-what about heat protectant?" he stuttered as he puffed out his chest. you sucked your teeth as you walked to your bathroom to find heat protectant. you could hear miles’ soft sigh as you left the room.

walking back with the spray, you sprayed miles head as you told him, "you know the faster we blow dry, the faster all of this will be over right?"

"alright, alright-" he threw his hands up in defense and tilted his head. "-simplemente no tires demasiado fuerte por favor."

you squinted your eyes in thought as you tried to translate in your head, and after a second you understood.

"you have nothing to worry about, I got most of the tangles out of your hair when washing. this should go smoothly."

and smoothly it did… except for the fact that miles couldn’t stop bobbing his head all over the place. you kept having to grab his head to keep it upright with the blow dryer. "miles keep still, jesus!"

"what d’you think i’m tryna do?"

once blow drying was over, you turned miles head up to face you looking down at him from his sitting position. "that wasn’t so bad now was it?"

"hmm nooo," he groaned. you bent down to meet his lips for a small kiss, thanking him for his (very difficult) cooperation.

taking his hair out of all the clips, you got to parting six equal sections of hair to braid. as you parted you made sure to add zig-zag patterns with your comb, just to give his braids a little flavor. as you clipped off the sectioned parts of his hair to start braiding you checked to see if miles was okay to start

"you ready baby?" he said nothing.

"miles?" you asked again. when you heard no response, you walked over to check on him. what you saw was truly a sight to behold—

there was miles, shut eyed and breathing slowed with his mouth slightly opened. "I made him fall asleep," you thought to yourself. quickly, you stumbled over to your bed and found your phone. snapping a picture of him in this state, you giggled as you went to instagram to edit in a pink heart next to him and save it at your new lock screen.

swiftly placing your phone on the dresser along with all your hair supplies, we went back to doing his hair. you opened up some hair grease and gel as you went to work.

"miles," you shook him awake. "miles, baby wake up."

stirring out of the deep slumber you put him in, he stretched his long limbs as he looked around for a second confused.

"finished?" he asked groggily. you noticed his voice was scratchy and deep, still laced with sleep. you turned him around in his chair for him to come face to face with your dresser mirror.

his eyebrows furrowed and his lips formed to make a small "o" shape as he looked at himself in the mirror.

running his hands across the top of his head he exclaimed, “damn mami.”

"eek-! you like them?" you smiled as you bent over his chair to wrap your arms around his neck.

"of course I do, these are clean," he answered. he turned his head to face your cheek as he kissed you.

"ouu lemme take a picture," you said. you grabbed your phone from off the dresser. you unlocked the phone, but before you could open the camera app, miles caught a glimpse of your lock screen.

"um-! when the hell did you take that??"

— i am an avid user of the pink heart emoji

— 🩷

— took me a while to decide whether or not I wanted this to be an e42 or e1610 miles fic 😞

— tbh it could easily be both

— @laylasbunbunny @ulovejayy @all444miles @nagi3seastorm

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chilkookiepal · 6 months ago

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Greedy

Pt.1

Pairing - lowkey yandere Kim Taehyung x workaholic!Reader Kind of co-workers au Genres- yandere, comfort, angst, smut if you hold your breath

Summary ; co-worker Taehyung is the only person who makes reader feel safe in the office, he is the perfect gentleman that she falls in love with but what happens when the very trust you put in him is the one way ticket he will use to test your morals to their uncomfortable limits

note, miss gurl is terrible with summaries like I just end up spilling the entire tea whenever I try to invest into a summary 💀

Anyways This is going to be a mini series ,I pulled this one out of my 1am adrenaline and It feels like a personal attack Chile! Here's part one , I have no clue about the amount of chapters we're going to have

Word count: 900+

+. +. +.

MINORS!!GET OUTTA HERE OR IM CALLING YOUR MUM

he was daring…or unhinged who cares when the difference was all in the subtle shift in his set of behaviors towards you

the subtle way in which his dark eyes did not shy away from raking over every inch of you from head to toe

a once-over so subtle yet so affective on all parts of your being

it was as if his dark eyes knew stuff about you you had never shared with him , like the layer of clothes on your body were non existent in his eyes , only his eyes in this room full of people

in this huge office where his girlfriend just happens to be the chippery conversationalist eager to form a friendship with you on regular work days

Hana ,she was the office crush

desired by half if not all men in the work building, she was hot , confident,outgoing ,friendly and she knew how to dress for the assets granted by her bloodline

hell if you were a guy you'd line up as well

she was annoyingly perfect and new to your department ,endorsed by THE Kim Taehyung himself after a full year of running a different department brunch of the company , that is where the two met and formed a relationship.

YOU on the other hand had been acquainted with Taehyung the year before his initial transfer , you were an intern that year…he was your senior at work but on a dunken night you learned that you weren't so far apart in age

back then he was just your wonderful senior , he was always hot but you were never one to swoon over people who had no interest in you

so when did energies take this confusing twist?

you're not exactly sure but you can make out a vivid memory of when Taehyung took interest in the selfies you uploaded on your social media casually recommending you for image related tasks in boardroom meetings , you were pretty popular and adored around the office yourself

you were good at your job and rarely took off days , some would say you were a goodie two shoes and while you were beautiful your ability to handle hard tasks at work over shadowed your feminine value in the office .

you didn't really know Tae out of his suit and ties while seemed to know a moderate enough about you not in a creepy manner ,he was attentive in a respectful manner that a friendly work senior would

the two of you felt far from friends hence you knew next to nothing about him

many of your male coworkers would try to make you feel less than or just attempt to reduce you to a bimbo in your early days but you had him , he was respectful and he spoke in your advocacy when it was necessary

you never felt ridiculed by him and maybe you began to like him ,

you were pretty obvious , warmed by his gentle gaze and the way he gave you all his attention , at other times you could swear you thought he felt the same and you would idiotically turn down guys to wait for him

for unspoken soft gazes sent your way by Taehyung

you're embarrassed for your pathetic self when you forget to transfer a file that needed to be reviewed over night in the office and have to go back after making it pretty close to home

in your sweaty glory with your blouse stuck to your skin and your heart hammering in your ears you want to believe that your eyes are on a different level of tripping when you walk past the conference room where a nest of dark long hair hides the face of the woman being pleasured into moonlight and you are ready to tiptoe away when something about the man with his face hidden in the crook of her neck keeps you rooted

and if you felt sick the next set of moments make you want to vomit projectile

the man raises his head eyebrows scrunched in concentration or pleasure…,damned dark eyes heavy with lone hairs from his usually gelled back jet black hair sticking to his forehead in a dangerous way that you did not need to know of , it's when he stares between himself and the woman in front of him that his lips curl in a heart wrenching smirk inflicting a mortal wound as his eyes meet yours that are getting teary for reasons unknown to you yourself .

….

to be continued.

#yandere bts #yandere taehyung #bts v #taehyung #bts fanfic #Yann #yandere x reader #new fic #kpop yandere #Chilkookiepal #yandere jungkook #yandere namjoon #yandere writing #yandere concept

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doomhands-jr · 6 months ago

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The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 11

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Not much. This is a dialogue and processing chapter, though there is a scene of religious anxiety. ALSO THIS IS UN-BETAD TRASH. If you find any corrections I should to make, please DM them to me.

Masterlist

Thanks to @flowerynerds for the banner!

____

You had no semblance of how much time had passed from when you first stirred to when you finally opened your eyes. It could have been ten minutes, or it could have been three hours. Waking up took the level of effort one would expect from a task like climbing out of quicksand—every pause had you sinking further back into a pit of unconsciousness.

The first thing you noticed was the pounding in your head. That was all you registered the first three times you attempted to wake. The fourth time, you registered a vile taste in your mouth. Cold metal, mixed with stale liquor, mixed with mold, mixed with acid.

You fell asleep again for a while longer after that. When you stirred again, you could tell you weren’t in your room, judging by the smell and the feel of the mattress. The bed was firmer than yours. It smelled familiar, but your head was so cloudy that you couldn’t place where you knew it from.

Then you were under again, pulled into yet another dreamless sleep. At some point, you opened your eyes to see blurry light peeking out from an unfamiliar window, and that’s all you had time to register before slipping away again.

The next time you woke, it took. Lids filled with lead, you kept them closed for several minutes, but your fingers twitched against the polyester comforter covering you and you breathed deep, recognizing the smell a little more, but still having trouble placing it, visions of cinnamon lattes and rain drifting across your closed lids.

You wiggled your toes, the sleep paralysis finally beginning to release its hold over you inch by inch. After a few more minutes, you opened your eyes. It took some more time before the blurriness in your vision began to clear enough for you to study your surroundings.

The room was familiar—you’d seen it once before. Perhaps in a dream. Or in a photo. It was as if bits of cotton and fluff had been stuffed into the crevices of your brain and it was a struggle for you to think past them.

There was an element of danger to waking up in a strange room. You recognized that, but there was no emotion tied to the thought. No panic. No adrenaline: your nervous system was still asleep.

Realization crashed into you like a wave when you looked over to the edge of the bed and saw a familiar tattooed hand peeking out from a black sleeve. A head of brown hair rested on the arm and suddenly you knew where you recognized the room from—it was in the background of the video chat you’d had with Noah.

As if the realization had taken all your remaining brain power, you let your head fall back onto the pillow and closed your eyes again, feeling your head throb with every heartbeat.

This was Noah’s room. You were in Noah’s room.

How did you get here?

You were at a party last night. That much you remember. You’d had a few drinks. Maybe you’d gotten drunker than you realized and that was why you couldn’t remember anything.

Nick had said he wouldn’t let you get drunk.

That’s right. You were with Nick.

Your eyes flew open. You had��kissed Nick. The two of you had been dancing. And then you were making out. The memories came to you in flashes, as if you were flipping through a photo album.

So how did you get in Noah’s room?

You lifted your head as much as you could to get a better look.

Noah sat on the floor, back against a dresser. He was slumped over to the side, resting his arm on the mattress, forehead on forearm while his hair spilled over like a curtain, hiding the side of his face.

Mustering all the strength you could, you pressed your palms into the mattress and pushed yourself into a half-sitting position against the headboard.

The movement must have startled Noah because he awoke the opposite of you: with a sharp inhale, his head snapping up, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you.

“Angel.” The word fell softly from his lips, and there was relief coded into it. He sat up, shifting to face you. The arm that had been on the bed drifted closer, reaching toward you before he thought better of it and pulled it back.

Your mouth fell open, but no sound came out. At least not at first. It was a few tense seconds of eye contact before you spoke.

“Noah…” Your throat cracked painfully when you spoke, and you realized how dry your mouth was.

“Shh,” he soothed, reaching up for a glass of water that sat on the nightstand and offering it to you. “Here.”

You took it gratefully, noticing how cold and unfamiliar the tips of his fingers were when your brushed them.

You sipped, the water soothing your throat and lubricating your vocal folds. “Why am I here?” you asked. “What happened?”

Noah watched you with caution, face falling.

Something was off—he was reluctant he was to answer your question. The look he gave you made you squirm uncomfortably.

“Tell me,” you said.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head to break whatever thought he was trapped in. “Um,” he began, taking a deep, steadying breath.

Your stomach sank.

“First of all, you’re safe. Nothing happened. Nick and I made sure you were taken care of.”

“You…what?” His words were concerning. Why did he have to make a point that you were safe? Had there been a time when you weren’t?

“Also, we caught the guy. He’s in police custody.”

Your heart began to race. “What guy?” you asked, breath growing tense and rapid. “Noah, what happened?”

Noah bit his lip, eyebrows pulling together in a mix of emotions you couldn’t decipher. “Someone was slipping stuff into girls’ drinks last night. We caught him before anything happened, but you were drugged.”

It all came out too fast before you could make any sense of it.

“And you were in pretty rough shape last night.”

The words hung in the air, unabsorbed as you blinked stupidly at him. You’d heard them, but there was something preventing you from processing them.

“Are you okay?” he asked, kneeling beside the bed so he could see your reaction. He reached out again, this time to grab your hand and you pulled it away out of instinct, body on autopilot. He flinched away, looking hurt for half a second before training his features into something calmer.

“Give me a second,” you said. He nodded.

Your stomach churned uncomfortably, and you slumped forward, feeling the saliva and bile seep into your mouth. You gagged.

Noah jumped into action, grabbing an empty bucket from beside the bed and tucking it under your chin. You gagged a few more times but nothing came up, so you sat back against the headboard, wiping at your irritated eyes.

You waited, allowing your stomach to settle again before entertaining any thoughts.

You’d been drugged.

It was too big of a thought to process all at once. Your mind didn’t have enough elasticity to wrap itself around something like that—you had to start smaller.

“How did I get here?”

“Right,” said Noah. “Nick and I brought you back here.”

“Why didn’t you bring me to my dorm?” you asked. The questions were coming rapid fire now.

“We couldn’t find your keys,” Noah answered, not missing a beat. He seemed eager to explain. You were grateful that he also seemed to recognize your need to digest the information in bits and pieces.

“They should be in my purse. Where is it?” you asked.

Noah shrugged.

It hit you how strange it was seeing his face again. There was a part of you that acknowledged how much you’d missed him. Another part recognized how angry you still were at him, but all of that was overshadowed by the information you were learning.

“I didn’t see it,” he said. “It’s probably back at Jolly’s. We can go get it if you want.”

“In a bit,” you said, leaning back against the pillows and taking a sip of water. The thought of getting out of bed and doing anything right now caused your anxiety to spike once more. You had to calm down. You could feel yourself getting worked up and knew that eventually, your emotions would surface and spill over, but you had questions you needed answered first.

“How did I get here?” you asked again, this time gesturing the bed. “Last I knew, I was with Nick.”

Noah looked entirely uncomfortable once again, but he willfully pushed past his discomfort to answer you.

“Well, uh,” he said, his voice low and soft, as if not to startle you. “You started vomiting. It got all over your clothes, so one of us had to remove them. I volunteered since…,” he trailed off.

“…since what?” you asked, not understanding what he was getting at. Thinking was still difficult. It was like your brain was trudging through mud to form thoughts.

“Since I’d already seen you.”

When his answer finally registered, you exhaled a deep, regretful breath. It was a truth you didn’t want to remember or acknowledge. At the time you’d been excited, but now you were ashamed and embarrassed that you’d been so easy.

That was another conversation you needed to have with Noah. But not right at that moment.

“Angel, I’m so sorry I didn’t—,”

“—I don’t want to talk about it.” The words were out of your mouth before you’d even processed them, body once again going on autopilot. Noah’s face fell. “I’m sorry,” you followed up, softening. “We can talk about it later. Just not right now.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

“Where are my clothes?” you asked.

“Nick put them in the washer last night,” he said, standing up. “I can go check on them.”

Perhaps he was eager to escape the discomfort that had settled between the two of you in the wake of all the events that had taken place, or perhaps he just wanted to do something for you. Either way, Noah got up and padded across the room, pausing at the door to make sure you were okay.

When you nodded, he slipped through the door, leaving you alone to process your thoughts.

As soon as he was gone, you felt like you could breathe again. You inhaled deeply, now free to think and feel without being observed by anyone, which was initially what you thought you wanted.

But without him as an anchor, intrusive thoughts crept in.

God’s punishing you.

It came as a whisper in the back of your mind, and at first you brushed it off—a stray remnant thought leftover from all the time you were steeped in church culture.

But then it got louder.

You brought this on yourself, you know. This is what’s waiting for you when you stray from the path of righteousness.

You squeezed your eyes shut. The thoughts were familiar. Ever since childhood, you’d had this voice in your head, but you knew what it was. It was the voice that arose any time you did something that someone else said was wrong, or anytime something bad happened. It was the one that said God was punishing you for some sin you’d committed.

You could tune the voice out now, though. You knew it was just anxiety.

It’s not anxiety. It’s a warning.

You swallowed, excess saliva having pooled on either side of your tongue. It wasn’t a warning. Your brain was lying to you.

You’re going to Hell if you keep acting like this.

You clenched your jaw. It was a lie.

It’s not a lie.

It’s a lie.

Your hands shook, and you struggled to catch your breath. Tears began leaking out. You hated feeling like this. This was the same feeling you used to get after every mistake. Any time you drifted from the narrow path laid out by the church.

Atone for your sins. Go back to church.

The shaking in your hands had progressed up your arms until it reached your chest, causing your breath to hitch, and you knew you were about to start crying. Not because you believed the voice, but because you couldn’t get it to leave you alone.

You’re going to Hell. If you don’t go back to church and believe in what they tell you, you’re going to Hell. You’ll burn for your sins.

You rocked back and forth, clutching onto yourself as you spiraled. Visions of you burning in a lake of fire flashed before your eyes. Your skin prickled all over and you struggled to breathe.

You didn’t register the door opening from across the room.

“Your clothes need more time to dry…oh shit!”

You heard Noah bound across the room and before you knew it, his arms were around you and your head was buried into his chest.

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” he said, stroking your back as he rocked you back and forth. “I’ve got you.”

The deep pressure was just enough to tether you to Noah. Solid, sturdy Noah who slowly pulled you back to the present. And though, at that moment, you wished it was anyone other than him holding you, you were still grateful.

“What happened?” he asked, once your breathing had slowed.

You shook your head, not even wanting to voice your thoughts, as if saying them aloud would make them more real. If he could just hold you for a while, that would be enough.

“Okay,” he said, clutching you tighter. “Okay, we don’t have to talk.”

You focused on your breathing, in for four counts. Hold for four. Out for four. Hold for four. Repeat. You latched on to the scent of spiced oil—the scent you remembered fondly. You breathed it in deeply, allowing it to fill your nostrils and keep you grounded.

Your heart rate slowed. You pressed your forehead into the soft black cotton of the hoodie Noah wore, sliding your cheek over the fibers. You blinked back tears, eyes landing on a small hole near the pocket of the basketball shorts Noah wore.

Touch. Smell. Sight.

At least three out of your five senses were activated, and it was enough to pull you securely back to the present. The thoughts no longer consumed you, but they still lingered in your psyche and you were unable to fully relax.

With great effort, you cleared your throat.

“I’m going to say something,” you said. “I need you to tell me if it’s true.”

Noah squeezed your shoulder in affirmation. “Okay.”

“I am not being punished for leaving the church.”

Though you had been afraid that voicing your concerns would make them real, speaking them aloud had the opposite effect—your fears reduced in size as soon as the words were out.

“Jesus,” Noah remarked in disbelief, “Is that what you thought?”

“True or false?”

“No, you’re not being punished for leaving the church,” he said with a sigh. “Where is this coming from?”

Noah pulled away to look at you and you struggled to meet his eyes, focusing still on the small rip in his shorts instead.

“It’s something I heard a lot growing up,” you confessed. “If I turned away from God, I’d find nothing but pain and misery.”

You chanced a glance back up at Noah. He worried at his bottom lip, eyes focused on something on the ceiling and brows pulled together. His fingers tightened where they gripped your shoulder.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” said Noah, shaking his head. He situated himself against the wall so that he could sit comfortably next to you. You were touching at the knees and shoulders, and you wondered if he noticed as much as you did. Despite the anger and hurt you still had with him, you couldn’t help but lean into him a little.

“It’s not you. It just bothers me how much they try to control people. And they don’t care about the way it fucks them up.”

His words hit harsh and you flinched.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, looking over to you. His face was intimidatingly close. You tried to look up at him, but the eye contact was too intimate, so you wound up staring somewhere between the bottom of his nose and his upper lip. “I don’t think you’re fucked up. I just hate that you have to worry about this. You’ve been through enough.”

“Thank you,” you said, and in the silence that followed, your thoughts began to settle. The knowledge that you’d been drugged was no longer too big for you to process. You were reaching a state of acceptance.

“I don’t think you turned away from God, by the way,” said Noah. You looked up to see him quietly regarding you. This time the eye contact was tolerable.

“What?” you asked.

“You said that the church told you that if you turned away from God, you’d find nothing but pain. I don’t think you turned away from God. Maybe you turned away from the church, but not God.”

You twisted his words around in your head, examining them as they worked to combat some of the negative thoughts in your head.

“I thought you didn’t believe in God?” you asked.

It was Noah’s turn to look away. He sniffed once and tucked some hair behind his ear.

“Yeah, well…,” he trailed off, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

You let him avoid your question for the time being, but you couldn’t help the corner of your mouth from quirking up, feeling as though you’d caught him in a moment of vulnerability he never meant for you to see.

“I should go,” you said, hoisting yourself up off the bed and stretching. “I need to get my purse.”

“I can walk you,” Noah offered, mirroring your actions. “I’d feel better not leaving you alone.”

You weren’t planning on company. In fact, you could probably use some alone time to gather your thoughts, but being on better terms with Noah felt really good, and you wanted to enjoy it for a little longer before you got to work processing everything else that had happened, so you agreed.

Noah smiled, and you were greeted with his too-big front teeth. The sight of it ripped off the scab that had grown over the wound he’d left on your heart, leaving just enough space for him to crawl his way back in.

Uh oh. _____

That feeling stayed with you for the rest of the day, and you wished it wouldn’t. It was much easier when you’d written him off as a player and could focus on your self-discovery without thinking about him. Now that he’d weaseled his way back into your life, you were more confused than ever.

Rather than try to sort out exactly how you felt, however, you decided to distract yourself with Ava. As soon as you got back to your room and charged your phone, you were hit with several alarmed texts from her.

Ava: 3:08 AM: OMG Nick just told me what happened!!!! Are you okay?!?!?!

Ava: 3:22 AM: Text me as soon as you get this!

Ava: 10:55 AM: Girl! Where are you?!?!

Rather than text her back, you pressed the call button. When she answered, she sounded frenzied.

“Oh my God, where have you been?!” Her voice through the phone speaker came out tinny and shrill and you had to flinch away from the phone, head still pounding from the after-effects of the drug. As if she sensed she’d had a bad start, she immediately lowered her voice. “Sorry, I don’t mean to yell. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you said softly. “My head hurts, but I’m fine. I could use some company though. Are you busy?”

“What do you need?” she asked. “Are you at your dorm? Want me to bring food?”

“Just company,” you said, sighing back into your mattress. “That’s it.”

“I’m already on my way.”

_____

Ava arrived fifteen minutes later with a massive duffel bag. Once she greeted you with a hug, she got to work pulling out various comfort items she’d brought with her.

Within thirty seconds, your desk was covered in an array of face masks, bottles of coconut water, electrolyte drinks, painkillers, and several snacks, both salty and sweet.

“I also brought this in case you felt like doing a hair-of-the-dog,” she said, pulling a bottle of champagne out from the bottom of the duffel.

It was a lot. You probably could have anticipated that she’d go to such lengths to make you feel better, but her energy was too intense for you to digest.

“Thanks,” you said, scanning the contents of the table and grabbing a bottle of coconut water.

As abrasive as her energy was, she was right. As soon as you took the first few sips of coconut water, you started to feel better.

Ava, to her credit, quickly picked up on the fact that you weren’t responding favorably to her energy and stayed quiet after that, allowing you to take in everything for a few moments. “How are you?” she said after you’d taken your first few sips. This time, her voice was soft and tender.

“I’m okay,” you assured. “A little roughed up, but I think I’ll be fine.” You wanted to tell her that Noah helped talk you through it, but thought better of it. She might latch onto that detail and make it into a bigger deal than it was, and honestly you didn’t feel like answering questions regarding whatever was going on between you and Noah.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked, helping herself to a seat on your bed.

Sitting beside her, you offered a noncommittal shrug. “What all did Nick tell you?”

“Not much,” she said, taking the bottle of champagne off your nightstand and twisting the cork out with a satisfying pop. She took a careful sip of it before offering it to you.

“No thanks,” you said, holding up a palm.

“He just told me that there’d been an incident, and you’d been slipped something. That he and Noah were taking care of you and that Noah beat the guy up.”

Your eyes snapped up to meet hers. “Noah beat him up?” you asked. This was news to you.

She blinked, tilting her head at you. “Yeah,” she said, eyebrows furrowed. “Did you talk to him at all?”

You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid this conversation forever, but you had hoped you could hold out a little longer. That was the problem with being known as well as Ava knew you—you couldn’t hide from her for long.

“We talked,” you said. “He didn’t mention anything like that.”

“What did you talk about?” she asked, regarding you with careful and practiced neutrality.

Ava had an opinion she wasn’t sharing and you knew it. She was putting you on the spot to see if her opinion was correct.

“He just helped me process everything,” you said, training your voice to match the neutrality of her face.

She took another sip of champagne, savored it in her mouth for a moment and then swallowed. “Anything else?”

“No.”

“Ah,” she said, nodding.

“Out with it,” you said, growing impatient. Better to just rip the band-aid off.

“Do you know what you want with Noah?” she asked, words coming out rushed, as if pressure had been building up behind them.

“No,” you said firmly. “And I’d rather not torture myself trying to figure it out.”

Her eyes held the same concern that Noah’s had that morning, as if you were a fragile, delicate flower in danger of being crushed.

“You know I’m here to talk about it if you need,” she said. You could tell it was coming from a place of concern, but if you knew Ava as well as she knew you, it was also coming from a place of curiosity, and wanting to ease the tension of not knowing what was going to happen.

“I understand your concern,” you said. “You don’t want me to get hurt again.”

“I don’t,” she said, wrapping her arms around you, and the gesture contained an unspoken apology for pressing a matter you clearly didn’t want to discuss.

She was sweet though, and you knew it came from a good place, so you relented.

“He tried to bring up what happened, but I said I didn’t want to discuss it at the time.”

She gave you a firm squeeze, causing the champagne to slosh against the side of the bottle. “Do you think you will in the future?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Probably sooner rather than later. Just not right now. I’m too tired,” you said, punctuating it with a yawn.

“I bet,” she said.

“Can we talk about something easier?” you asked, slumping against the headboard. “How was your time with Hera?”

“We, uh…,” she trailed off, bashful smile playing on her lips. Your jaw fell open. “Did you…?”

The smile grew into her full, toothy grin and a flush crept over her cheeks.

“Shut up! How was it?” you asked, grateful for the change in subject.

“It was amazing,” she said, stars in her eyes as she stared dreamily off into a corner of the room. She sighed, likely still picturing it, before launching into a detailed explanation of how her night had consisted of a slow flirtation that had quickly grown into a banter and culminated in Hera kissing her once they’d gotten back to her dorm, which then led to Ava spending the night and ‘losing her lesbian virginity’ as she’d put it.

You smiled, relaxing into the pillows of your bed and observing her as she spoke animatedly about her evening, lighting up from within, and you couldn’t remember ever seeing her this happy. You hadn’t spent much time with Hera, but if she made Ava this happy, she was someone you wanted to get to know more.

“So who’s better in bed,” you asked after she was done. “Nick or Hera?”

“Hera, for sure,” she said. “But Nick could give her a run for her money. The man knows what he’s doing.”

“Oh my God,” you said, sitting up. “I forgot to tell you. Nick and I made out!”

“What?!” she squealed, half-spilling the bag of sour cream and cheddar chips that the two of you had been sharing. “Why didn’t you mention it earlier?!”

“I kind of forgot,” you admitted. “A lot happened, but yeah.”

“Who moved first?” she asked, picking up the chips she’d spilled and popping them into her mouth one by one.

“He did. We were dancing and then he pulled me in and kissed me,” you confessed, “I wasn’t expecting it at all.” You plucked the half-drunk bottle of champagne off the nightstand next to you and took a careful swig. Your headache had finally subsided, but you were still feeling some leftover brain fog.

“How was it?” she asked, tearing off the foil edge of a face mask pack and sliding the mask out.

You shrugged, grabbing a mask for yourself while she smoothed hers onto her cheeks. “It was fun, I guess. The whole night was sort of a blur by that point.”

“Did you talk to him at all after? What did he say?” she asked. She poured some of the leftover serum from the packet out into her palms and began smoothing it over her chest and arms.

“I didn’t, actually. He was still asleep when I left. Oh wait!,” you said, fetching your phone from where it was still connected to the charger. “I think I have a text from him.”

“What does it say?!”

You tapped on it a few times—the residue from your mask smearing over the screen and making it difficult to open. “He’s asking if he can come over…or well, he was asking. That was a couple of hours ago.”

“What are you going to say?” she asked.

“I’m having fun just us,” you said, fingers already busy texting a reply. “But I’m inviting him over tomorrow after my Lit final.”

“I should probably study for those, by the way,” she said, but she made no move to get up.

You raised an eyebrow, feeling the sheet mask crinkle with the movement.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, waving your concerns away. “I only have one actual final. The rest are projects I’ve already finished.”

You also felt confident that you knew the material enough that you could pass without too much studying. Besides, a good night’s sleep was probably going to help you pass more than pouring over your textbooks would.

“How do you feel about what happened last night before everything went down?” Ava asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Did you have a fun time with Nick?”

“I did,” you said. There was something you needed to admit to yourself, however, and probably to Ava as well.

“Can you tell me more?” she pressed.

You took a large sip of champagne to stall while you worked up the nerve. Too big, in fact: the carbonation compressed the neck of the bottle, causing bubbles to shoot up your nose and out of your mouth, coating your face in the sticky beverage.

Ava couldn’t help but laugh at your clumsiness and you followed suit. After using the corner of your duvet to wipe your face, you discarded the soiled face mask into the trash and sighed, struggling to meet Ava’s eyes because you knew what you were about to confess.

“Truth is,” you said, “part of me was hoping I’d lose my virginity last night.”

Ava’s mouth fell open, shock etched across her face. “What?! With Nick? I thought you didn’t want to.”

You hid your face in your palms, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t,” you said. “But then…,”

“Say no more,” she said. “I get it. He’s very disarming. It didn’t take long for me to hop on that train either.”

You relaxed, glad Ava understood what you meant. “Yes! Exactly, and it doesn’t even feel like a trick. I think he’s genuine about it.”

“He is,” she said, nodding. “He took care of me the whole time. Now I’m bummed you didn’t get to.”

You sighed. “It’s probably for the best,” you said.

“Why’s that?” Ava asked, peeling her own mask off and tossing it into the trash.

“I don’t know,” you said. “I just get the feeling it wouldn’t have solved my problem.”

“What problem, specifically?” she asked. It was a good question, but one you didn’t know the exact answer to. It lingered in the back of your head—a sort of quiet discontent and sense of unease. You knew it was related to the church, and had something to do with your sexuality, but couldn’t quite articulate what it was.

_____

“Hey,” said Nick as soon as you opened the door. You stepped aside to allow him more room. “Hard to believe it’s only been two days since I was in here last.”

He was referring to the décor, which you’d purchased that morning and had spent the last two hours hanging up. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a few items you found at a bargain store a few blocks from campus, but it made your room a little warmer than the barren wasteland it had been after you’d torn down all of your church-related posters.

“Thanks,” you said, stepping further into the room. “How are you?”

Nick spun around to face you, tilting his head to the side. “I’m good, thanks for asking. I’m more concerned about how you are though.”

You took a deep breath—something you’d been doing a lot of lately, and softened. “I’m okay,” you said. “Yesterday was kind of rough, but I’ve done a lot of processing and I think I’ll be fine.”

Nick searched your face for any sign of dishonesty and after finding none, he visibly relaxed, lips pulling up into a soft smile. “That’s good,” he said. “I’ve been kicking myself for the last two days for allowing you to get into a situation like that. I feel like I failed you.”

Your eyebrows pulled together. “Nick, you didn’t fail me,” you said, moving across the room to sit cross-legged on your bed. Following your lead, Nick pulled the chair out from your desk and spun it to face you, sitting comfortably. “I don’t think it’s reasonable to expect you to predict every possible scenario and prevent it from happening. You did your best.”

His lower lip jutted out from his face in a pout. “I still wish I could have stopped it.”

“I know,” you said. “Me too. But these things happen. It sucks that they do, but you did a good job. As soon as you noticed something, you stepped in.”

“Noah stepped in,” he corrected.

You scowled, not about the fact that Noah was there, but because he wasn’t giving himself enough credit. “Are you going to make me comfort you all evening? Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

He breathed out half a snort. “I like when you check me.”

“I know,” you said, picking at the pilling on your flannel pajama bottoms, “considering I’m always having to do it.”

You looked up to find him unguarded, looking back at you with genuine fondness and the two of you shared a moment of warm sincerity. You really did like Nick, which made the conversation you were about to have with him all the more irksome.

You sucked in air through your teeth. “Nick…,” you started.

“Hold on,” he said, raising a palm to interject. “I have a feeling I know what you’re going to say, and I want to say something first.”

You nodded, gesturing for him to go on.

“I’m not going to apologize for kissing you, because I really did want to. And I enjoyed it.”

Your face twisted into a look of surprise, not expecting the turn in conversation.

“But,” he continued, “it probably didn’t make things easier for you with Noah the next morning, and for that, I am sorry. I hope it wasn’t too awkward.”

“We didn’t even talk about it,” you said. “Does Noah know we kissed?” Your stomach folded in on itself, chest seizing up at the idea. You had to manually relax your muscles, reminding yourself that you’d done nothing wrong.

Nick looked uncomfortable, eyes scanning over your bedspread rather than meeting your face and he drummed his fingers nervously on his knee. “Yeah,” he admitted.

You steadied your breathing, eyes flicking up to the ceiling in search of some sort of answer for how you should proceed. “What did he say?”

“He wasn’t exactly happy,” said Nick, smoothing his hands over his jeans. “We talked about it though, and I think he’s good. If he didn’t bring it up to you yesterday morning, he probably isn’t going to.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding to yourself. “Okay, I can work with that.”

“Have to talked to him since?” he asked. His eyebrows disappeared under the rim of his black beanie and you could see on his face just how much he cared for you and Noah, and how much it ate at him to think he’d caused problems.

“No,” you said, not enjoying how the answer felt coming out. “I know I should, but I’ve been taking some space. Wanting to sort some things out in my head.”

“I can respect that,” said Nick.

He waited for a few minutes, quietly regarding you as you checked in with yourself to see how you were feeling about the situation.

You knew you needed to talk to Noah. Over the last twenty four hours, you’d opened up the text thread that you had with him, typed out a few words, sighed, and closed it again without sending anything on several different occasions. Nothing felt right.

“How’s he doing?” you asked.

“He’s fine,” Nick said, but the slight shift in energy on his end led you to believe that it was more complicated than that.

“Are you guys okay?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “We talked about it. I explained everything and he said he understood. He’s not mad at either of us. He knows he fucked up and has no right to be upset.”

“I think he’s allowed to be upset, just not with us.”

“Right,” Nick said, nodding. “He’s frustrated by the situation, but he doesn’t have any resentment.”

You let out a long, slow breath. “That’s good,” you said.

A few beats passed, both of you knowing what needed to be discussed next, but neither wanting to bring it up.

When the tension grew too thick, you finally spoke up. “So about the kiss,” you said.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said, words coming out rushed.

You nodded. “I didn’t think you did, but I wanted to make sure.”

Nick stood up, walking over to your bed and with a twitch of his eyebrows, wordlessly asking for permission to sit next to you. You nodded. He sat facing you, tucking his legs underneath him. “I really liked kissing you,” he said.

You flushed, not used to someone being so direct.

“But Noah is one of my best friends. And you’re quickly becoming someone important to me as well,” he continued, placing a gentle hand on your knee for emphasis. “I don’t want to fuck with either of your happiness. As much as I hate it, we probably can’t do that again.”

You chuckled, placing your hand over his and squeezing it. “I know,” you said. “It’s probably for the best.”

“Can I ask you something though?” he said, leaning towards you in earnest.

“Sure.”

“In an alternate universe where you’d never met Noah and hadn’t been brought up in the church,” he began and you smiled, already guessing where this was going, “what do you think would have happened.”

You bit your bottom lip, debating on whether or not to be honest with him, but your smile betrayed you. “I think you know.”

He beamed at you, glee radiating off of him. “That’s all I needed to know,” he said.

“What about you?” you asked. “Would you have?”

“Oh, in a heartbeat,” he said, needing no time to think it over. He brought his other hand to your leg, palms gently squeezing your thighs to emphasize his point.

Your eyes flicked from where his hands rested on your legs back up to his face and there were only a few times you could ever recall anyone looking at you with the desire that was etched across Nick’s face.

You could see it. A world where you and Nick met under different circumstances. As you scanned his face, you could feel the pull of him. Your eyes were drawn to his lower lip and it was reeling you in like a fish that had taken the bait.

It was a soft pull, though. One that you’d have entertained had you never gotten close with Noah and didn’t have religious trauma to work through before you could consider being intimate with anyone else.

You sat up straight, not realizing that during the course of the conversation, you’d been inching towards Nick, and he followed your lead, removing his hands from your thighs, though he still watched your face like he was considering throwing caution to the wind and going for what he wanted.

You rolled your shoulders, shaking off the heady cloud of lust that had settled over the two of you.

“Thanks,” you said. “I’m not sure I trust myself with that kind of stuff yet.”

Nick blinked back a few times, likely also still pulling back from his desire. “Yeah,” he said, sighing the word out. “Yeah, it’s not the easiest thing to navigate, especially for someone so new to it.”

An unexpected wave of disappointment washed over you. It was small, but not insignificant, and you realized just how difficult it was to say no to temptation. Not that you were concerned about the sin of it. It was just the realization that sometimes what you wanted went against your better judgement, and that choosing the right thing came with its own set of consequences.

“I’m gonna have to talk to Noah soon, aren’t I?”

Nick nodded, swallowing thickly as the last bit of desire released him from its clutches. “I think you do.”

And with that, you and Nick were back to platonic companions. It was bittersweet, but it was also the right move, and both of you knew it.

Besides, you had a feeling the upcoming conversation with Noah was going to be complicated enough. No need to throw another wrench into it.

A/N: Okay so I know the ending wasn't my best, but I was on a deadline and just wanted to get this chapter out so we could get to the NEXT chapter, which is where the real meat of the story is.

Also I have to write the taglist like this because tagging normally isn't working.

Let me know what you think! Sorry if it's a little rushed. Hope we're all okay with it though.

Taglist:

@traffordonna

@velvetlilacsdaisies

@sunsshinesunny

@rain-down-on-me

@friedchildblaze

@emilygalindo

@kat-rhi-lac

@sister-sebastian

@badomensls

@collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

@hoe-for-daddywise

@concretejungle420

@sleep-worship

@cncohshit

@adenobabe

@guacinyourarea

@excapingourexistence

@livingdeceasedgirl

@chxrryxox

@dem11

@starcrossedwasteland

@alm0std3add

@reyadawn

@karenfranco

@glam-cherry-bomb

@simpingforniragi

@koalakoala8

@themorticians-world

@sleepytoken99

@xmagdalenaxbrenaxorestes

@fuck-me-muke

@xmads-omensx

@just-random-stuff

@somebodyels3

@klutzy-kay24

@themorticians-world

@silentglassbreak

@ashlarz-blog

@noahsebastions

@cyber-tiny

@xxkittenkissesxx

@treacheryinblue

@flowerynerds

@1toreyouapart

@poisongirl616

#noah sebastian x reader #nick folio x reader #bad omens fic #the devil's advocate #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian #bad omens #fanfiction

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transformers-spike · 27 days ago

Note

You put Breakdown with a gutbuster in my head, and now I need. For him to use it. On me. (Aka reader)

Bonus points if it's disgustingly cute and sweet and BD gets lots of love and praise. 🥹🥺

I overdid it. Again. Thank you @drunkeninlovesailor for beta-reading this fic and smacking some sense into me when self-doubt reared its ugly head. And I will go on to say @ss-shitstorm made me adore Breakdown so much more through Breaking Bread. I look up pictures of him and cry And yes, this is a sequel to Visitors - so back to the heatverse

Knock Out always goes first. Breakdown doesn’t mind it. At least he shouldn’t. He knows he’ll have his turn with you. Everyone does.

Second or seventh place, it doesn’t matter. He should be grateful to have a chance. Just like he should be grateful he didn’t lose more than one optic. Or the feeling in his left arm. Or his honor.

Again, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. It’s his turn. No superior waiting at your habsuite, no humiliating dismissal (obviously, they don’t mean for it to seem humiliating – they’re his superiors after all, and he has to obey them) – only you in the midst of your heat cycle.

The “breeding room”, as you jokingly call it, is actually Knock Out’s old habsuite. Repurposed, yeah, but he’s been here enough times to recognize it. Any Con worth their ball-bearings can upgrade after reaching third class. Knock Out used to be a first class. Then he was promoted to Chief Medical Officer and skipped a rank. Breakdown is stuck in second class. Better than first. Better than being a vehicon. He should be satisfied.

You’re curled up in your oversized berth on top of the heating pad. “Hey, squishy,” he whispers, taking his usual place next to you. “Don’t tell me Knock Out tired you out.” Your answer is a snort. You stretch, flesh poking out from under your frame coverings. A common sight by now, but his cooling fans didn’t get the memo. His frame vibrates with their familiar hum.

“Like what you see handsome?” you ask and scuttle up to him, wearing that precious spark-warming smile. He returns it full force.

“What can I say? Even a one-opticced oaf can recognize true beauty.” “Careful, partner. There’s only so much I can take before jumping on your spike.” He barks a laugh. “It may come sooner than you think.” “Bring it. I’m ready to deepthroat until your system reboots. But first -” you huff as you climb into his lap, waving away the servo he’s offering. Once comfortably seated in his lap, you cheekily rub your aft against his interface panel.

“Spill the tea, sis.”

“Hmph…” He drums his digits over his thigh. “We’ve had a record break in the mines! I haven’t seen them this happy in quartexes. There was a small party at homebase, squad’s been celebrating with engex.”

“Homemade?”

“Nah – I’ve checked. I won’t let them pull that stunt again.” He winces at the memory. B15F. Poor scrapper’s been euthanized well before his time. There wasn’t much left to save. The engex melted right through his fuel tanks. Breakdown didn’t pride himself on morality anymore – none of them did. But it was the right call – even if the uncertainty is tearing through his circuitry like a horde of scraplets. Could Knock Out have fixed B15F? Or maybe it would’ve just dragged out his suffering for a chance at nothing. His conjunx had studied at a bigshot academy – Breakdown’s knowledge’s based around rushed medical training. “You okay, big guy?” He snaps out of it. “Yeah! Everything’s good.” You can’t see his reassuring smile with his massive chassis in the way. But maybe if he keeps it up he’ll really mean it.

“You sure? You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” His smile falters. If a human has noticed it… who else has? Is this why Dreadwing’s been especially tolerant of his mistakes? Scrap, Breakdown almost misses his commanding officer’s reproaches. Could he get any more pitiful for frag’s sake? Proving himself after losing an optic to fleshies is bad enough. He’s not an invalid – he won’t be demoted to janitorial duties after working his aft off to make it this far.

“Workload’s been pretty intense. Been on my mind a lot.” He adds a chuckle to convince you – but he can’t see your expression with his chassis in the way.

“Bad enough for the vehicons to get blackout drunk again?”

“Found them recharging in mine carts.”

“Just like a college frat party, huh?” He has no idea what that means. Doesn’t stop him from laughing, though. “You should’ve seen them getting out! The sight brought lubricant to my optic.” “Scrambling like turtles stuck on their backs?” Oh – those, he definitely remembers. “Better. Remember that video you sent of the cat-looking thing surrounded by fermented fruits?” “The raccoon?” “Yeah! Struggling to sit up, then falling back in again!” You snort louder. “Ah. An absolute classic. You should totally film it next time, I would kill to see it.” “Oof. I’d love to, but I’m not sure I can do that while on shift. Ask Soundwave. Nothing escapes him.” Especially any contamination of the medbay – his processor shudders at the memory. At least it wasn’t Commander Starscream. Fooling around’s been kept to Knock Out’s habsuite ever since. And outside the ship, but that’s not the Intelligence Officer’s business.

“More than you know…” you say. Your tiny digits sneakily stroke the protomatter between his hip and thigh. The touch isn’t sensual. At least he doesn’t think it’s supposed to be. You’re not shy about squeezing, biting or running your glossa over it. This feels different. Hesitant.

“You know… you rarely visit first.” He sputters. “It’s not that I don’t want to or anything!” He shifts his frame and cranes his neck to take a good look at you. No success. “It’s that… I’m still a soldier, and they’re my superiors.” “I know that, silly. I’m talking about how you always let Knock Out have the first go at me before either of your shifts start. Why is that?” “I…” He shakes his helm. “Come on, second place doesn’t make any difference. As long as I get to pay you a visit, I’m happy!” His vox is strained. He meant to sound cheerful. What came out felt like rust being scraped off mesh.

You sink your digits into his thigh. Not enough to hurt. Never enough to hurt. A single fleshie can’t hurt a Cybertronian. But it’s clearly meant as a warning. Even he can tell that.

“Dude, just ask to go first. Knock Out is lovely and all, but you shouldn’t neglect yourself for his sake. I want you to come around and let loose before anyone else. Hell, you deserve it. Do you want me to ask Megatron personally? I can do that, no prob-” “No!” It comes out too desperate. “No,” he repeats. Softer. “The others don’t do well with favorites. Uh… except maybe Soundwave, but he doesn’t count.” Breakdown cringes. He wants no part in their power struggles, especially Commander Starscream’s. Else he’d end up at the barrel of his Master’s cannon.

“Okay… but my point still stands. Ask Knock Out to reschedule next time orr I’m bringing Megatron into this.” His vents huff, servos drawn into fists.

“Got it,” he relents. “I’ll talk to him, but if he refuses-” “He won’t refuse,” you say none-too-softly. “We’ve had a chat post-coitus.” He blinks. “You cannot be serious.” “Low and behold, I am. What? Did you expect me not to address it?” “He’s going to be furious at me.” “Like hell . If he so much as lifts a digit, I’ll be happy to inform Megatron and get him put in his place. He’s your superior in the medbay, not outside of it last I checked. And trust me, I’ve been checking.” He clenches his jaw and offlines his optic. “We’re not…” he starts gently, leveling his words carefully. “We’re not Newsparks. There’s a balance we’ve established on the Nemesis. All of us. Bringing Lord Megatron into this won’t offset the balance. It’ll destroy it. What we have here,” he gestures at the small habsuite. “Is thanks to his generosity. I don’t want to lose this because of some petty interface stuff. If he intervenes… I doubt we’ll still be able to visit.” There’s a long pause. He gives you the time to mull it over. An apology already on his glossa. “I understand. I know it’s not my place to call the shots. Part of me wishes that…” You swallow. “Part of me wishes that I could make things easier for you guys. You’ve all been through so much, and I know I’m only the ship’s resident pet or whatever, but I can throw my weight around a bit. You know, use my position for good?” “For good? Primus, you’re already doing us enough good!” “Hm, not exactly. You’re the ones helping me with my heat when he’s not around. Ugh – I would be suffering without you guys.” You squeeze his thigh. “Man-” you laugh nervously. “I hope I’m not getting too sappy. You’re, like, the only one I can have these conversations with.” His fans stutter. “Really? Not even Lord-” “Not even,” you repeat with finality. There’s a comfortable silence. Breakdown is smiling to himself.

“Hey, big guy.” “Yeah, squishy?” “Wanna kiss?” “Is that even a question?” he asks as he picks you up from his lap, servos cradling your fragile human frame. “Mmm, you know the answer.” You touch the sides of his face. His cooling fans flip to the second setting. Your hands are soft. Incredibly soft. His vents cease functioning entirely as you kiss him. Your glossa is warm and wet. His circuits crackle with charge. How could something so small push his systems into overdrive? When you pull away, he’s left cold and yearning. You don’t waste a klik undressing yourself, tossing your frame coverings over his servos and onto the berth. His lips find yours again. You devour his intake like your fuel tanks are empty.

Knock Out satiated you groons ago, but you’re already running hot with want. His heavy engine purrs. “Someone’s eager to get spiked,” he mutters against your intake. You ex-vent sharply and kiss again, grinning against his lips. He slides a digit between your legs, which you immediately part. There’s still feeling in this one, taking in the heat of your slick valve. There’s no trace of your last interface, only a craving for more. A hiss escapes you as he rubs the digit over your minuscule anterior node. Your hips buck into him, teeth grazing his lip.

“Please, stop teasing already. You know I can’t take it.” “I’m not a tease - that’s Knock Out’s job.” He swipes his glossa over your intake. “I’m the total opposite. So, what do you say? Is your little valve ready to take my spike?” Your optics widen, lubricating in excitement. “Oh finally!” You press your helm against his. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this! I’m so glad the recent energon haul got you enough to mass displace.” “Actually, I’ve been rationing my energon for a deca-cycle!” You step away from his helm and look at him in… strange horror. “You what?” There’s pity in your optics and disappointment furrowing your optical ridge.

Oh frag him! Why did he have to open his intake? “It’s nothing to worry about, I swear! I’ve done this plenty of times in the past – there was this time my unit was stranded in the Sea of Rust and there was no energon for almost a whole deca-cycle! Impressive, right? You don’t see any seekers surviving that!” Your horrified expression worsens. “What do you mean you’ve been starving yourself for weeks just to mass displace and fuck me?”

“Come on, it’s not really starving! We bots can deal with it better than you humans!” he stammers, engine revving in panic. “It’s not about that – it’s about sacrificing yourself for… for this!” you gesture at your body. “Fuck’s sake, you could have told me! I was waiting for you to ask! I could have gotten you the energon ages ago!” “Then why didn’t you?” The words smash through his intake before he can stop them, leaving him to clean up the mess.

His spark tightens when you flinch. It’s the first time he’s startled you. The first time he’s seen you scared. “I… I didn’t…” Your gaze falls. “Scrap, I’m so sorry! It’s not my place to say it, I didn’t mean-” “It’s fine,” you gently stop him. He immediately yields. “You don’t have to apologize. I just… didn’t expect it to be this bad.” A sigh leaves your intake. “I still want to help, though. If Knock Out can mass displace almost every time he visits, isn’t there plenty of energon to go around? Don’t you also work in the medbay on top of everything? You deserve at least the same amount of rations.” “It’s more complicated than that,” he mutters. “Knock Out outranks me.” “So? You’re just one bot, it won’t drain the reserves.” He presses a servo to his helm. “My frame type’s the issue. Us warrior class bots need far more energon than the average vehicon.” “Yes, and? You’re still just one more war frame. Who else is there? Megatron, Dreadwing – that makes three.” You bite your lip when you meet his optic. “Let me give you a hand. I’ll leave the whole thing with Knock Out alone if you let me help with this.” “I…” His vents huff. “Okay. I’ll let you take care of it. But, please tell him not to summon me. Else it’ll seem suspicious.” A smile tugs at the corner of your intake. “Got it. Easier done than said.” Hesitating, you reach out to touch his cheekplate. He leans in. You take a deep in-vent. “I’m sorry for blowing up like that. I’ve been so worried about everyone lately, I’ve overstepped so many boundaries. The energon thing just… drove me off the edge.” “It’s okay,” he says, unsure of his own words. “It happens to the best of us. If it’s any comfort,” he grimaces, “Knock Out’s been riding my tailpipe about my energon intake for the whole deca-cycle. That’s why I… tried to keep it a secret. Until now.” “Did it work on him?”

“Frag no!” He laughs. “For all his drawbacks, he’s the closest thing to a doctor on this ship. Noticing something’s wrong’s part of his primary code!” His laughter dies down. “Sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I definitely ruined the mood.” “Not at all.” You press your cheek against his. “If it’s any comfort on my part, I’ve been called someone else’s name during interface.” His optic buzzes in its socket. “Who?” he demands without meaning to. “Who?” He repeats, far softer – now a polite question. “No one in High Command, sadly,” you say like you’ve read his mind, adding an apologetic shrug. “Another human before the alien shebang happened.” “Ah.” He averts his optic to hide his disappointment. “Come on, man. You know I would have immediately rung you up if Starscream had been moaning Megatron’s name during overload.” He cracks a smile. “I guess you’re right.” “Gossip girls forever?” You offer your fist. “Gossip girls forever,” he agrees, tapping it with his digit. You both mimic an explosion and draw your servos away in slow motion. “Still not sure what explosive punches have to do with gossip.” “Shhh - it’s a human bestie thing.” You kiss him again. Gently at first, then harsher with his wordless encouragement – your hunger makes his engine rev. “Want to start with valve to glossa action? How about we keep mass-displacement for the final course?” “Like I’ll ever refuse a free refueling.” You snicker. The noise is so precious it makes his joints weak. Lying on his abdomen with you in his servos, you writhe as he presses his glossa to your valve. “Fuck,” you hiss. “You okay?” he’s unable to hide the smugness in his tone. “I thought Knock Out had the first taste.” “ Fuck , Knock Out. I need your glossa right now. No one else’s.” His fans shudder. Once, handling someone so small was circuit-frying. He’d been with plenty of minicons, but never an organic. Those bots could take a good pounding. Fleshies? Not so much.

“Fuck.” You shiver as his glossa rubs up and down your pretty valve. Your hips buck into it. He grins between your legs and licks again. And again. And again. Until he feels your servos on his crest. “I need to ride your face,” you say – more declaration than request. He blinks, grin widening. “That desperate, huh?” “Shut up,” you growl – too adorable for your own good. How he wants to squeeze and smother you against his face. Your legs are soft on either side of his cheeks, servos gripping onto his crest with impressive strength for a creature so small and frail. He holds his glossa out for you to use as you please, two digits holding your hips in case you tumble off. “How…” You pant. “How are you this good?” He shrugs with his free arm. His vents blast harder. “I’m not even doing anything,” he mumbles with his glossa out. “Of course you are. You’re being your sweet himbo self,” your words falter as you keep riding.

His cheekplates heat up. “Uh, a what now?”

There’s no answer, only your legs shaking as you furiously grind against his intake. You grip onto his crest, your entire frame shaking. “Breakdown!” you call out, vox breaking. A sudden burst of charge travels down his interface array. His pressurized spike clanks against his panel. “Frag,” he groans. His spike’s throbbing, Ugh, it hurts like he swung it against a wall.

At least you’re oblivious to his, uh, mishap – twitching against his glossa while trying to slow your ventilation. The plating of hips shifts and his panels release his array. His valve is soaking with transfluid, steam almost emanating off of it after overheating for half a groon. The cold air makes his spike twitch. “Is it… is it time?” you ask weakly, turning around to look at his lap. “Oh hey, so that’s where the noise came from.” He cringes, but still helps you get down. You scurry towards the middle of the berth and cheer out “Show me the goods, big boy!” Mass displacement is something he’d done in the past – back on Cybertron when there was plenty of energon to go by. Now it’s just a waste. Not for you, obviously! Primus, you’re worth every last drop. His working receptors buzz with sensation. System diagnostics appear at the corner of his vision. Mass conversion: successful

Warning:

Minimum energon required: 70%

Current level: 93% His joints are calibrated, there’s no ache in his processor, subspace feels fine – everything’s in working order. He can rest easy and focus on the important stuff. “Woah.” you beam at him. It’s uncanny to see you… so much bigger than he’s used to.

The hug is sudden but not unwelcome. Your helm comes up to his chassis, but only barely. It doesn’t take long for you to pull him on top (the close view is to offline for), and drag him into a kiss. His spark pulsates like never before.

“Please, spike me,” you beg. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He looks down at his spike. Then back at you. There are many things he’s learned as a nurse, one of which being: pick the smallest pair of forceps when operating on minicons. Sadly, he cannot replace his spike with a smaller one. But he can prepare you for the operation. “Hey, how about I get you started with something else before you get the hammer?” He lifts up the servo with functioning receptors and flexes his digits. “Promise you’ll rail me afterwards.” “Promise.” He grins.

He’s a denter first and all, but he’s always been careful with his servos back when brushing debris off his comrades after a busted demolition job. It felt like second nature to him. They were at the bottom of the scrapheap. Caring for others, even in small ways, made their plight bearable. His own at least. He pushes in, chuckling as you furrow your optical ridge, intake slightly agape. “Does it sting?” “No.” Another digit is carefully added. You whimper and grit your dentae. One digit and a half then. “What about now? How do you rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10?” “Oh shut up…” Your tiny valve is absolutely soaked, slick with human lubricant, struggling to accommodate him. If you’ve taken the entire High Command, you can take him. Sure, he’s been told his spike is a “weapon forged by Solus herself”, but Megatron’s definitely bigger. And you’ve fragged him. Everyone knows that. Your valve’s more durable than it seems.

You clench around his digits, expression so lovely it’s clear you’re about to overload. He cautiously curls a digit inside of you. The gentle pressure’s an easy way to make your valve calipers clam down on him. Another whimper escapes you as he rubs at the spot. Your pedes push against his thighs, a desperate plea to stop. But he knows better. “Cute,” he thinks as your sweet noises intensify. He never expected fleshies to be so adorable – but then again, you’re not like the other squishies. Lord Megatron picked the best one. “Please,” you whisper. “This is torture.” “Aw, I thought you wanted to overload.” “You and I…” You swallow. “We both know damn well you’re teasing me. I need your spike, not… not this .”

He laughs. “I keep my promises, don’t worry about it.” He pulls you flush against him, legs over his hips. Bracing himself on one servo, he’s got an arm cautiously wrapped around your waist. “Comfortable? How do you rate your position on a scale from 1 to-” “Breakdown, I swear to fu-” “Got it. It’s hammer time.” He grins. You grip onto his digits and offline your optics. He pushes in. You suck in a sharp in-vent. He pauses.

“Go on,” you say after a moment. “I can take it. I guess I didn’t expect it to be so big.” “Big?” He blinks at you. “You’re the one taking Lord Megatron. He’s larger than me.” “Not his spike.” You chuckle. He looks up at the ceiling in wonder. “Wow.” “Wow indeed. Now please put that spike to good use.” Like a good soldier and seasoned interface partner, he follows your orders. Ridge by ridge, you take him, grip tightening and dentae gritting until he reaches your limit. He shudders. You’re clenching around him like a cold press, crushing his spike harder than any minicon valve. You seem on the verge of shutting down. “You okay?” “...yeah.” “Do you want me to stop?” “Don’t you dare.” “Got it.” His smile widens.

The pace is incredibly slow. Yeah, Knock Out likes having his circuits rearranged – and yeah, most vehicons he’s been with want to get railed into oblivion. But taking his time with you feels just as good. Charge is building along his array. He wants to tell you so many things – how you’re so beautiful holding onto him like he’s the center of your universe, whimpering and repeating his name listlessly – or how he wishes this could last forever, that he can forget the war when your arms are wrapped around his frame, no matter how small.

Your optics come back online and meet his. Wordlessly, you beckon him closer. He leans down, now bracing himself on his arm. Your servos find his face. “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?” you ask, nuzzling his cheekplate. It’s not the first time you’ve done so. But at this moment, either from mass displacement or the sight of you sprawled out before him (or both), his spark throbs in his chassis. His array is pulsating with charge. He presses his forehelm against yours. “Yeah. You always do.” “Good. Because I love you.” Your lips meet his. The charge explodes. Your valve clamps down on his spike. Sparks shoot through his sensors – his engine roars. The world stands still.

Then, he breaks the silence. “By…” his vox crackles with static. He recalibrates his vocalizer. “By Alchemist Prime…” there’s still a buzz to his words. “What was that?” “You tell me,” you answer shakily. Neither of you move for a while. Diagnostics report: Energon level: 87% He pulls out of you, earning a wince. You loosen your grip on his neck and fall back. His optics widen at the load of transfluid trickling out, valve still twitching. He feels equal parts pride and wonder something so small took his spike. Should he tell you about it? You appreciate greatly when he says what’s on his processor. Not everyone does. “Good job,” he tells you, petting your helm like the human he saw congratulating its furry companion. Your expression spells confusion. Then, you grin wider than he’s ever seen and pet him back. His engine rumbles in content. “I would die for you,” you declare without a hint of sarcasm in your vox. He laughs nervously. “Please don’t, Lord Megatron would kill me.” “Then I’d kill him first.” “But you’d already be dead.” “I’d come back as a ghost.” He laughs again, twice as nervous. “Anyway, was it… good?” “You blew my back out.” “I – what ?” “You rearranged my guts.” “Wait, are you about to offline-” “Human euphemisms.” “Oh.” “It means it was the best frag of my life.” “I… oh wow.” He allows you to pull him back on top. “You’re the best I could have asked for.” His cooling fans are blasting. “Um…” “You’re my favorite blueberry popsicle.” “Uh, thanks?” “I love it when you’re blue in the face.” More energon rushes to his cheeks.

“Oh, um – you too!” Frag - that didn’t sound smooth. He hasn’t been this bad since he was newly forged. “Raspberry and blueberry,” you press your helm against his. “My favorite mix.” You kiss him again, less desperately – finally satiated for the next cycle. Or at least a few groons. “Can you cuddle in this form?” Or…do you have to turn back?” He hits his chassis with pride. “Another groon won’t hurt me – I’ll do just fine..” “Aw hell yeah!” He lies down and you quickly take your place at his side, burying your face in the crook between his neck and his chassis. You let out a hum when his digits stroke your back. He can sense the minuscule hairs on your plating. They tickle.

A klik passes by, but you can’t seem to sit still. You push his arm away, readjust yourself, then pull it back in, only to start again a nanoklik later. “Everything ok?” You make a noise of frustration – so adorable it makes his spark ache.

“Give me a sec,” you mutter.

He watches as you get up to fetch your blanket and pillows. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I barely managed to clean up before coming over.” “Don’t matter.” You cover his side in them. “I just want to cuddle you.” He bites his glossa. You’re too sweet for your own good. Once comfortable, his servo comes back to stroke your skin. You shiver. “Are you cold? Do you want me to get the heating pad?” “No. You’re warm enough. It just… feels nice to be with you this way. I meant what I said. I do love you. Maybe not on Knock Out’s level – he’s known you before my great grandparents were even born.” He affectionately taps your helm. “I mean, yeah – but what does that have to do with us? Do you humans have a monogamous contract or something?” Your expression says it all. “Oh,” he drawls. “Uh – it doesn’t mean that you can’t be with us, it’s that-” “I’m Megatron’s first and foremost,” you say, looking away from him and straight at the wall. “I… yes. But I mean that-” “I’m together with everyone. I know that.” You turn your attention back to him. “And no, it doesn’t bother me. I simply want to give you the praise you deserve. And the energon. Man, you need that so badly.” Resting your helm atop his chassis, you flash him a warm smile. “I love you. Don’t you ever forget that.”

#transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers prime #valveplug #maccadam #tfp breakdown #tfp breakdown x reader #heatverse

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just-wrting · 1 year ago

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Secret Admirer

Title: Secret Admirer

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: You've been trying to figure out who keeps leaving you little notes and gifts. Despite everyone else knowing, you keep denying the obvious answer.

Word Count: 1721

Master List

A/N: This will probably be the only thing I write for Reid. I'm not super into him but when the List Randomizer spat out secret admirer I weirdly thought of him. I plan on trying to write a bunch of different characters from a bunch of different fandoms. Just whoever pops into my head I guess. Two will probably be posted Friday.

You aren’t sure when you noticed it. Maybe it was the fact that your desk was always clean. Maybe it was the little extra things that started to appear. Slowly but surely, you realized you had someone who was leaving you gifts and notes. You had a secret admirer.

Despite your efforts, no one on the team would say anything. For several weeks, you pressed the issue with the other BAU members, yet no one cracked. In fact, you were teased about being unable to figure it out. How could a member of the BAU not figure out their mystery admirer?

“Come on Garcia! I know you know. You have to tell me,” you plead with the tech genius. “You’ve literally been avoiding me. I know you know.”

She lets out a squeak before running to the safety of her lair. Morgan is giving you a smirk and shaking his head. Despite your scowl, he chooses to tease you.

“Come on, (L/N), can’t you figure it out? Who could be this mystery man leaving you gifts and fancy letters?” He laughs as he pokes the latest gift, a small stuffed version of your favorite animal.

“Hey, leave my new son out of this. What did he ever do to you?” you grumble, pulling it closer to you. “I didn’t even realize someone remembered such a little detail.”

“Maybe that means it’s been a long time crush.”

At that moment, Reid sets his bag down and takes a seat at his desk. You think you see Morgan’s grin get wider, but it’s hard to tell given how wide his smile usually is. It’s a picture perfect smile.

“That’s a relatively cute stuffed animal. I’ve actually been reading up on that one recently if you’d like to know more,” he offers. “Only if you’re interested of course.”

Reid gives you his charming boyish smile. It goes well with demeanor and you can’t help but find it cute.

“As long as you’re willing to leave out the creepy facts. I don’t even remember telling anyone my favorite animal,” you say with a smile. “Who would remember such a little detail?”

Morgan chimes back in, “Maybe someone with a perfect memory. Like what the kid has.”

You sigh. “Reid seems to like highly intelligent women with PhDs. I may be smart, but I’m not smart enough.”

Before anyone can protest, Hotch calls you all to the conference room for a case. While you’re sure Reid is nice enough to help whoever has a crush on you, you doubt you’d be his type. Maybe Reid is the perfect person to question about the mystery man.

—-

“Reid, (L/N), you two stay here and look through the papers,” Hotch orders before leaving the precinct.

You frown. What’s the point of having you here? Reid can read faster than you can. It’s almost like you’re just here for moral support in case he gets tired.

“Well now I feel useless,” you groan. “What am I even supposed to do?”

Reid doesn’t look up as he speaks. “Maybe today you’re our mascot. After all, mascots are supposed to be cute.”

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh. “Not all mascots are cute. Recognizable is definitely more important than cute. Besides, am I really that cute?

“I meant to say that compared to Morgan, you’re cute.” Reid buries his head further into the papers.

You ponder for a moment. “Well, you’ve got some charm. Morgan has the charm of he’s good with women so that’s why he gets hit on. Hotch is mature and a leader so that’s why women are into him. You’re cute though. You’ve got this soft sort of shyness that makes you adorable.”

You don’t catch Reid’s reply. His face is completely hidden behind various files. Maybe he’s just embarrassed, given that he’s always been a bit bad with taking compliments. That doesn’t stop you from thinking that it’s adorable.

“Speaking of your charms. I like the fact that you’ve got a good memory. You wouldn’t happen to know who’s got a crush on me, would you?”

He doesn’t look up. “I can pass along a message if you’d like.”

“Well then, I suppose you should tell this guy to ask me out. I can say for certain that if he’s this considerate, that he’s already got my interest.”

“I’ll do that,” he mumbles before handing you a file. “Take a look at this. I think I’ve found what we’ve been missing.”

—-

You peer into the lecture hall. It took some convincing, but you have successfully dragged J.J. to one of Lewis’ classes. You gesture vaguely into the room.

“See! That’s what normal Reid is. Dorky jokes, random facts, and the rambling on for ages is what makes him Reid. That’s not what he’s like around me anymore,” you hiss.

She makes a face and shakes her head. “So you have a different Reid? I don’t think he’s been replaced (L/N). Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard.”

You scoff. “No I’m not. Reid just seems so nervous around me. Did I do something? He barely looks at me anymore.”

With a shrug, she leads you away. “Have you tried asking him?”

You toss your empty coffee cup in a trash can. Part of you wants to throw up your hands and be done. Why is everyone treating this like it’s normal? No one is giving you any answers.

“Of course I have J.J. It would be weirder if I hadn’t. He clearly knows something about this secret admirer of mine, but won’t tell.”

J.J. pats your arm comfortingly. “Maybe it’s because he’s your secret admirer. Perhaps you need to ask him out.”

“Yeah sure. I’ll ask him out once I have the evidence that he’s the person leaving me these gifts.”

J.J. raises her eyebrows as she drinks from her coffee. Her face says she has other thoughts, but she won’t press the matter further. Your gut tells you to trust her, but you’d rather not make a fool of yourself. Sure, she knows Reid better than you do, but Reid can be difficult to read.

—-

After reading the latest note, you search your desk for your stapler. You’ve been stapling the date and time to each note before tucking it in your desk. However, it’s missing.

You let out a groan. This isn’t the first time it’s been in the wrong spot, and you’re sick of it. You opt to beg Garcia to look at the camera footage to see who’s been using it.

“Hey Garcia? Can you please pull up the footage of my desk this morning? Someone’s been using my stapler, and today they stole it,” you grumble with a scowl. “Whoever took it is going to get some very strong words.”

As she speeds through the footage, you watch the people who got there before you. At first, you see Reid pause at your desk and fiddle with something. You note that he’s the only person in the office at the time, but after he pulls away, you see your stapler still on the desk.

The next person to stop at your desk is Morgan. He pulls your stapler off your desk and staples his paperwork together as he heads to Hotch’s office. He never sets it back on your desk.

“Garcia? Can you please get my stapler from that idiot?”

She laughs. “Has he been using your stapler this whole time? He said there wasn’t any more in the supply room.”

You shake your head. “You like him so much, you can retrieve my stolen goods from him.”

Garcia nods. “I’m on it. You can count on me.”

You leave her to her planning. You don’t comment on the fact that Reid had been at your desk. If you ask her about it, she’ll just leave you alone to go get your stapler. This is enough evidence for you though. It’s time to confront Reid.

Thankfully, he’s made his way to the conference room to look for something. You sneak in behind him and stand between him and the door.

“So, what did you need from my desk this morning?”

You watch him jump and spin around. He looks shocked, but quickly covers it up.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, (L/N).”

You frown. “I found out my stapler was missing. Garcia showed me the footage and before it went missing, you were at my desk. What did you do?”

Reid opens and closes his mouth a few times. He doesn’t look at you. His hands keep fiddling with whatever he’s holding.

“Forget about it, I’m sure there was just some trash leftover that you cleaned up.”

He swallows hard. “Yeah. I didn’t want you to have to worry about it.”

You give him a smile. “Thanks. Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something else. The others seem to think I’m just talking myself out of it, but I think I can't put it off any longer.”

You make your way towards him, your smile still plastered on your face. You can tell he’s even more nervous now.

“Reid, are you my secret admirer?”

This time, Reid looks you in the eyes. You hear his breath hitch in his throat.

“What if I am?”

You’re a bit taken aback. Despite the determination you had walking into this, you aren’t sure what to say.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your voice is a whisper now. It feels like some sort of dream. It’s almost like if you talk too loud, this whole thing will shatter and you’ll be left in pieces.

“I didn’t think you’d like me back. Your type just didn’t seem to include me.”

Reid hesitantly pushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“You’re more my type than you realize.”

“Then do you want to get dinner tonight?”

Now you’re the one who's acting nervous. Your palms are sweaty. It’s more difficult to breathe. You can’t help but bite your lip.

“I’d like that. If you’re willing to get dinner with me.”

Reid leans down, and gives you a quick kiss. It barely lasts a second, but you can feel your skin heat up. When he pulls away, he stays close.

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

#reader insert #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic

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no-fate-but-what-we-make · 2 years ago

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Behind Closed Doors | Fezco

Description: you’re with Fezco in bed when Rue shows up and bangs on his door. Set in Euphoria season 1, episode 3

Pairing: Fezco x Female!Reader

A/N: The moment I first saw this scene, I knew I wanted to write something with it, but I never got around to it until now. Gif isn't mine - all credit to the creator. Enjoy xo

Warnings: drug mentions, addiction

- - -

The sound of a fist banging on the door to Fezco’s house shook you out of your nap. “Mm, what is it, Fez?” You asked, still sleepy, stretching and turning over to face him.

“I don’t know.” Fez sighed, pulling you into him for a quick kiss. “Maybe they’ll go away if we wait long enough.”

The incessant banging continued and after a few more seconds, your boyfriend let out an annoyed grunt and shifted to get out of bed. You watched, a lazy smile on your face as he grabbed his shirt from the floor and threw it on. “Be right back.”

You didn’t necessarily try to hear, but the walls in the house could be thin so it wasn’t hard to eavesdrop on conversations.

“Who is it?” You heard Fezco ask as he walked into the living room. The door squeaked as he opened it, and you could only imagine who was on the other side. One of his clients, no doubt. “Not today, Rue. Sorry.”

Rue. Your chest constricted at hearing the younger girl’s name. You’d seen her around school before you’d graduated, and had met her a couple times since whenever she showed up asking for drugs. From the rumors, her drug habit was one of the worst out of all of Fezco’s clients, and that was seriously saying something.

“C’mon man, don’t be a dick.” The window was open, a fact you hadn’t realized until now, and you could hear the hurt in her strung-out voice.

“Nah, I’m serious. You can’t come in.”

You and Fezco had just been talking about how he wanted to set firmer boundaries with his clients and you knew this was going to be one of the hardest. He saw Rue like a little sister, and always took special care when it came to her - any other girl would be jealous of the relationship, but you saw it for what it was: guilt mixed with some fucked up version of platonic love. When the news broke that Rue had been carted off to rehab after a very nasty OD where she almost died, Fezco had been inconsolable for almost a week. Ashtray had done a majority of the deals that week and you still weren’t sure what he’d told the buyers.

“Look, man, all I- all I need is just a few OCs-”

“Sorry, I can’t help you.”

“Fez? Fez? I’ve had a really fucked up day, alright? It’s been a really really fucked up day, so I need you to open the door for me, okay? Can you open the door, please?” The desperation in her voice had tears pricking the back of your eyes. You knew that tone of voice well, memory taking you back to your dead, alcoholic mother when she’d beg you to go buy booze with the fake she’d had made for you specifically for that purpose. Addiction was a hell of a drug.

“I ain’t gon’ help you kill yourself, Rue.” His silence was deafening. “I’m sorry but you can’t be comin’ over here no more. Just go home.”

“Don’t! Fez, don’t close the-” you heard the click of the door. “Fuck! Fez-” Rue banged her fist against the storm door, “open the fucking door, please? I’m begging you, just open the door.” In a flash, you were off your feet and heading down to the front door. When you got there, all you could see was his back, his forehead resting on the now-closed door. You wasted no time, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek in-between his shoulder blades as you held him tight. He took a shuddering inhale, bracing himself for Rue’s next words.

“Fez! You’re full of shit, man. You know you make your living off of selling drugs to teenagers, and now all of a sudden you wanna have a fucking moral high ground?! You’re a fucking dropout drug dealer. You know that? You’re a fucking dropout drug dealer with seven functioning fucking brain cells. OPEN THE DOOR! Fuck you! Fuck you Fez okay? Are you doing this because you care about me ? If you gave a shit about me you wouldn’t have sold me the fucking drugs in the first place but you did! You fucking did so open the goddamn door! Open the door!”

During Rue’s rant, Fez had turned around, his eyes meeting yours in one of the most tortured expressions you’d ever seen on his face. You hugged him again, your arms winding around his neck as you let him bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“I can’t do it-” He whispered against your skin, and you couldn’t fathom how Rue had heard him, but she responded like she had.

“Open the door, open the door, open the door!” The silence was heartbreaking, but you were currently torn between comforting Fez and fighting Rue for what she’d said to him even though you knew it was no use when an addict was like this. “Open the door. You did this to me! You fucking- you did this to me, Fez. You fucking ruined my life. The least you could do is open the goddamn door! I’m so serious I’m so fucking serious. If you don’t open this door right now I swear to god, I will hate you til the day I fucking die.”

“I’m sorry.”

She let out a heart-wrenching wail and smacked her fists against the storm door. “You fucking did this to me! Open the door! Open the door, Fez! C’mon man…”

Wordlessly, you took Fez’s hand and led him back to the bedroom, the sound of Rue banging on the door for far too long until she tired herself out and left.

The two of you had laid in silence and you waited without expectation until he began to speak. “I just…don’t know how to help her, ya know?” Fez murmured, staring up at the ceiling.

“She’s an addict, Fez. And you’re a dealer. You can’t control what she does and you have to let her fail on her own. It sucks but there’s only so much you can do.”

“I know.” He sighed, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. “Thank you for being here.” After a while, Fez finally fell asleep in your arms, his breathing finally evening out after an exhausting encounter. You tucked him into bed, curling up into his side as you tried to get some sleep of your own.

#fezco x reader #fezco x you #fezco x female!reader #fezco fanfiction #fezco fanfic #fezco imagines #fezco imagine #fezco oneshot #fezco one shot #fezco angst #euphoria fanfiction #euphoria imagines

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bittersweet-jack-of-no-trades · 4 days ago

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Truman Show but Ford is Truman and Bill is Christof (the director).

Stanley was with Ford at the beginning (Bill thought twins would be more profitable), and they spend their days dreaming of sailing far away. This show-breaking ideology, combined with Stan somehow figuring out the truth, leads to Bill (off camera of course) literally breaking the fourth wall and telling Stan the only way to stay with his brother is to convince Ford to stay in town, as Ford is trying to go to college out of state.

This leads to Stan breaking Ford’s project, but Bill was actually manipulating him into doing something drastic enough to kick Stan off the show- i.e., have Filbrick kick him out of the house. (Taking place of Truman’s dad ‘dying’ in the movie) Because the audience didn’t know Bill told Stan to break the project, they all hate him and once he leaves set, no one IRL will hire Stan, leading to him being jobless/homeless with the occasional tabloid interview for some extra cash.

Fiddleford takes the place of Lauren in this version, an extra who became unexpectedly close friends with Ford at Backupsmore, but, morally against the show, tried to tell Ford the truth; he was swiftly removed by the showrunners, As Ford continues to remain curious about the outside world, continually trying to leave, Bill had small speakers installed throughout his house, and would whisper to him; he tells Ford instead of leaving town, just construct a portal to go to a different world.

Ford gets the bright idea to call Fidds for help and Bill, when the audience starts to protest Fiddleford's lack of reappearance, is forced to let him back on so Ford will continue the project, on the strict condition that Fiddleford is not allowed to discuss leaving town in any way shape or form. The showrunners make Fidds life hell for his earlier betrayal; this combined with Fidds having to pretend to not remember their conversations about “the outside world” from college leads Ford to basically making up the concept of the memory gun, which Bill happily makes ‘canon' and forces Fiddleford to 'use.'

Fiddleford, tired of being on a show that he strongly morally opposed, eventually 'falls through the portal' (is pulled backstage) and once again leaves. Ford does send the postcard to his brother but obviously the showrunners intercept it: Stan, watching the show in the outside world, however, still sees his brother trying to reach out. Determined, Stan manages to sneak back onto set. He's dismayed to learn Ford wants to stay in town and just wants Stan to take his research and run--- he ends up pushing Ford 'through the portal'--- i.e., through the backdrop and backstage. Ford finally sees Bill for what he really is--- the director of this show--- and the twins finally break free. I imagine deep fans of the show probably hate both of them for 'ruining' it, but they don't care--- they're finally able to build the Stan o' War and sail away into the real sun.

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #bill cipher #no matter what AU Bill is Always Watching and Scheming #He would love the amount of control a Truman Show-esque environment would give him #Ford is like a Barbie to him #Stan is that ugly one he threw away after coloring on it with markers

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sunaluv · 2 years ago

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EXES? EXES.

in which you and miles are over, but he can't seem to leave you alone

"why are you in my house."

your voice left no room for jokes as you crossed your arms over your chest, almost glaring at the boy who has just entered your window.

it was coming up to two weeks since yours and miles break up. you had finally had enough with him ghosting you, and not committing to his promises and had constantly threatened to find someone better. so you finally went through with your empty threats and dumped him.

the soft glow of the moon caught his eyes briefly as he turned to look at you with an uncharacteristically soft look in his eyes. "missed you, ma"

"not your 'ma'," you put space in between you as he tried to move closer. "and you don't get to miss me, miles. you blew your chance."

he sighed, still trying to get close to you. "how many more times can i apologise," his heartbeat quickened when you allowed him to get more than 2 meters. "i want to make things right for us."

two weeks worth of missing him hit you at once and you felt emotionally overloaded as his warm hands held yours. "will you at least let me hold you again?"

his hand tucked the hair out of your face and held your cheek delicately. you mentally cursed yourself for leaning into his touch.

"i'm so upset with you," your voice cracked as you spoke, though your actions contradicted your words. "but i do miss you too."

a sigh of relief left his lips.

"you're not in the clear though, morales." a sharp inhale from him. "you keep ghosting me like I'm your side chick."

he pecks your forehead, testing how far you'll allow him to go. "don't be silly mami, i'on got no other girls but you. I'll explain everything to you as soon as i can, promise."

he pulls back, eyes scanning your face as if to commit it to memory. slowly, he leans forward to leave one more soft kiss on your lips.

"you're the only girl for me, alright?" he let his hands drop to his sides as he turned to leave your bedroom. "just wait for me, I'll come back for you, always."

you nodded your head, watching the boy climb out the same window he had broken in. now all that's left to wait until he shows up at your window again, which will probably be tomorrow.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles x reader #e42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #atsv x reader #e42 miles morales x reader

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neteyamslovrr · 2 years ago

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RETURN - PT 4

summary: five years ago he left you. left you alone with nothing but memories of your love. so how dare he come back now?

contents: 1k words (very short), fem!reader,

authors note: i am so so so sorry it has taken me so long, and this chapter is so short but i need to figure out more.

previous / next

The Omatikaya said that the river washes away your worries much like the calming embrace of a mother. A comforting stroke just like the rushing water running across your body.

So that is exactly where you went to escape. To let yourself float in the water. Letting it run across your face momentarily so you could indulge in the beautiful feeling.

It is a place you have found yourself go to more often. Your shared tent with Va’tep growing with more and more tension each day.

It wasn’t as if there had been a fight between the two of you. But Va’tep had grown bitter. Mean looks and hushed hisses. For a man of great status he had the emotional maturity of a toddler.

He knew about the mending connection between you and Neteyam. Anyone could see the rekindling flames burning between the two of you. It was angering for him.

To think that you could embarrass him like this. As is you were not his. Not Neteyam’s. No that ship had sailed.

And those growing furies within Va’tep shoved you far away. Far into this river, and further into Neteyam’s heart.

“What are you doing?” His voice was soft, so sweet yet deep. It erupted fire within you, one that not even the water surrounding you could put out.

Sitting up in a slight shock, your legs resting on the harsh ground below the water. “I was relaxing.”

“You can continue” He chuckled, submerging himself in the water beside you. “What have you been doing today? I didn’t seen you in camp this morning.”

You shrugged in response, sitting up beside him. “I’ve been here all day.”

“Hm? Any reason?” Neteyam knew you were feeling down. He could see it in your sunken shoulders and slight frown.

“Just…didn’t want to be there.” A vague response only probing Neteyam to ask more questions.

“Be honest with me…” He whispered, his slender hand touching yours with a comforting gaze.

With a long hesitant silence you looked into Neteyam’s eyes, your own glazed with tears. “It is Va’tep… it’s unbearable living with him.”

“What do you mean…?” Neteyam asked, his hands pulling you closer to him. “What is he doing?”

You caressed his hand. “He’s just…he’s so hostile. Being with you like this…It is hurting him.”

Neteyam scoffed. “The only thing it hurts is his pride. Which I will hurt more if he doesn’t grow up.” You shook your head as Neteyam tilted your chin to gaze up at him. “Whenever you are ready…We can approach him. I’m not letting you suffer with him for this long.”

“You let me suffer long enough.” Whenever you brought up Neteyam’s five year long absence it leaves a sting in both of your hearts. But Eywa was Neteyam doing everything in his power, with all his might to get back to how you were before. It was his one goal to recover the heart he tore apart.

“I will never let you suffer again. Please my sevin (pretty), let me help you.” He was so close to you, hands grazing your thighs, begging to bring you chest to chest.

You froze. You want nothing more than to let yourself let him into your heart. But there was moral turmoil running through you every time his soft fingers grazed your skin. “I want you to.. I really do. But-” You stopped yourself letting out a loud sigh.

“But?” Neteyam looked at you, stare full of love. “I will fight anyone who gets in our way. It is my fault Va’tep is promised to you. I will get you out of this.”

“Neteyam…” It was hushed, struggling and scratching to escape your throat. He nodded eagerly. “I cannot face my parents…I cannot be their only daughter who defies their wishes.”

“They wouldn’t wish for you to be unhappy.” You simply shook your head.

“I can’t- Neteyam…I don’t know what to do” You started to tear up, lips quivering as Neteyam gasped.

“Hey…hey. It’s okay…I’ll sort this out.” Neteyam hushed you, bringing you into his embrace, the lake sloshing around your bodies as his hands soothed your back. “I’ll make everything okay.”

And he vowed to do so.

It was a couple days after, you cried in his arms. He hadn’t talked to you since, you were avoiding him due to embarrassment.

He understood, it was taking you a lot to open up to him like this after all these years. And he would do everything in his power to make sure he can make you feel comfortable and safe with him forever.

Neteyam had only had restless nights. He couldn’t shake away the thoughts of you being with Va’tep and how miserable you were with him. He wanted you to be happy whether that was single or with Neteyam. Preferably, with him.

But while he lay still, his hammock rocking him gently to the rhythm of the breeze, an idea finally hit him. He understood the only reason Va’tep was to mate with you was because it was your parents. And the only reason Va’tep stayed with you was because of his pride and his ego.

What if Neteyam were to take it away from him? To make it so that Va’tep is no longer the most honourable mate for you? And to strip away his pride so it cannot shackle you down into a loveless mating.

Maybe he was crazy to think if this. What could he possibly do to make Va’tep truly lose his mightiness in the eyes of your parents. And what could Neteyam do that wouldn’t make his family need to run away from the clan again…This is the chief’s brother we’re talking about.

But you were the most important thing to ever talk about. You were his top priority, his one and only purpose on this planet. Your voice was a symphony and it mellowed out every poor note around him. He swore on the Great Mother he would fix this huge mess he had caused.

Full of fiery passion he erupted out of his hammock, drawing up plans and splaying thoughts onto the dirt below him. You asked him to show you how to let go of the past. And he was determined to help you grab onto the future. Your future. Each other's future.

once again thankyou my beautiful doves <33 youre interactions are my motivation thankyou sm for reading

tags: @notsaelty @mommyneytiri @hannabanana-09 @gloryavila @peachinsominac @jaidalise @neqeyam @hello222sthings @tsuteysyawntu @neyetams @yhern05 @emjeez @adaiasafira @kiri-tuk @yaya6765 @biscuitbeater15 @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @plooloo @savvysscandles @dilucslilmeowmeow @69cocktimusprime @newjeansbonnie @chatoicboy @pinkpantheris @plzfeedmebread @afro-hispwriter @lollife1617 @goddesslilithmoriarty @cinetrix @grierpilots @melsunshine @valentineheartzz @tsveria @mikeyswifie @junnniiieee07 @wifeyofeveryone @baebinana @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @neteyamssbaby @taleiak @cheyehc @shoyos-sugarbaby @be3flow3r

everything taglist: @8resa @ilovejakesullysdick @neteyamsblog @live-laugh-neteyam @reyalvr @trashfox @darkacademictrash @scntfrhs @dreamyescapesfromreality @fanboyluvr @neteyamzmate @neteyamyawne @neteyamssbaby @hana-yuri @solanare @s-surreality @aerangi @papichulo120627 @bellstwd @sussybaka10 @oceanstar19 @sharkybabe9 @arminsgfloll @bakugouswaif

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corpsebride1010 · 30 days ago

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Honor - Remus Lupin x Zabini Reader

wc: 1.6k

remus smut from my AO3 account

What is honor? Most would consider it one’s moral compass, the embodiment of principles such as integrity, authenticity, a sense of duty to oneself and others. However, when your family is part of the Sacred 28, honor is about making an appearance, one noble enough to put down every muggleborn around you, all those with impure blood. It means keeping a straight face despite your own parents not caring enough to go with you to the train, to wave you off. It means walking past every kid with loving parents hugging them goodbye and not batting an eye. You were a Zabini. It was in your blood.

You entered the compartment that had your usual group, Bartemius Crouch Junior, Evan Rosier, Regulus Black, Pandora Rosier, and Dorcas Meadows, sitting down next to Barty, who already had a cigarette lit up. Barty and Evan were the only ones who had arrived as of now, Dorcas always running late, Pandora talking up Xenophilius and Regulus... Well, Regulus was always on time, actually, which made it odd he wasn’t there.

“Merlin’s beard, will someone crack a window before Crouch kills us all?” Evan groaned, glaring daggers at Barty.

“Evan, for the last bloody time, I am under duress, and therefore need an outlet. Now if you want to give me another outlet, I wouldn’t be opposed, but if you don’t-” Evan was out of the compartment before Barty could finish, pulling him to the small bathrooms in the middle of the train.

“God, could they be any more obvious ?” You muttered. Before you could go looking for Pandora or anyone else, the carriage opened and one by one, in came Remus Lupin. The man, the myth, the legend. And your summer fling, a secret you will take to your grave.

“Zabini.”

“Lupin.”

“No friends?”

“They’re on their way.”

“How long d’you reckon they’ll take?”

At this, you finally looked at him. The scars marring his face, the jagged self inflicted marks from when he turned every full moon, the large sweater he wore, concealing his lean muscles and the small tattoo of the word Moony on his hip. It was almost like he read your mind.

“Eyes are up here, love,” he said, and your eyes finally met his. “There’s a room in the back of the train. Off limits to students. No one really knows about it,” his eyes traced your features. You so desperately wanted to leave him in the past, in the summer, in your memories alone. You didn’t want this, to want to want him. It went against your nature. You were a Zabini for Christs’ sake! You could be disowned for being caught with him doing anything at all. You were obviously going to decline him. Tell him to forget about the summer, about anything ever happening between the two of you. Tell him to fuck off for the remainder of your years at Hogwarts. Who does he think he is, coming up to you publicly? Talking like he can have you? The answer would be absolutely not, in any timeline or universe.

“Meet me there in ten minutes,” the words slipped from your mouth by accident. Well, you had to be mature about this and accept the consequences. Oh, well. Your legs led you past compartments filled with students of all ages, talking excitedly, waving around their hands. You had barely shut the door behind you to the mysterious back room before hands were on you, and not gently. Summer Remus had always taken it slow, for fear of hurting you, but this Remus clearly had no problem ripping your literal school uniform to get off your shirt.

“Hey, what the fu-” You didn’t have a chance to finish, Remus crashing his lips onto yours fiercely. There was no tension, no buildup, just need . “Merlin, I missed you so much,” he muttered against your lips before attacking your throat with bites and nips. Your bodies were pressed together, almost frantically, his lips moving frantically across your collarbone, grazing the edge of your bra, tracing the curve of your breast, navigating your body.

“Missed having you like this.” Remus unclasped your bra with one hand and pulled it off swiftly, swirling his tongue around one nipple and pinching the other with his forefinger and thumb, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. “You like that? You’re doing so good for me.” The air was charged with electricity and the previously cold room was now heated, burning with anticipation. While he was having the time of his life with your breasts, his other hand trailed down your waist, making easy work of your skirt, taking it off in seconds.

“Christ, you’re already soaked for me. Only from a few touches? So sensitive..” His hand moved from your breast to pull your panties off, then lifted you by your thighs to set you on a table in the corner before dropping to his knees in front of you. Now completely exposed with him still fully clothed, you felt vulnerable and almost embarrassed, and of fucking course, he picked up on it.

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

He pulled off his jumper and let you put it on anyways, exposing his top to the chilly air. Curse him and his intuitiveness. You had barely uttered a ‘thank you’ before the pad of his thumb rubbed your clit in agonizingly slow circles. You bit down on your lip hard, holding back any sounds, considering there were people just on the other side of the wall. The corners of Remus’ mouth lifted up in a smirk at your feeble attempts to stay quiet.

“Don’t want anyone to hear you, now do you? Making all these pretty sounds just for me?” You wanted to snap back at him, but he pushed one finger into your heat before you could, stretching for a minute before curling. His finger continued its gentle exploration before adding another, his thumb never ceasing its tantalizing movements. You felt the heat coil in your stomach, your mind going fuzzy, and just as you felt the edge of your release, he pulled out his fingers, your core clenching around air. You whined at this, which only amused him.

“Shh, just feel me,” Remus mumbles against your core, his mouth replacing his fingers. Your hands tangle in his curls, gripping them for dear life, and you hate the fact you were pretty sure you’d collapse if it weren’t for one of his hands steadying you.

“I feel you,” you whimper as he begins kissing at your entrance. “You’re all I feel.” He makes a low sound at that, and then he sweeps his tongue against you, ensuring every coherent you’ve ever had shifts to static. His tongue laps up your slick, sealing his lips around your clit and causing you to buck into him.

“Remus, please.. Please don’t stop..” It’s all you can manage to say, your thighs shaking, and you’re sure your wetness must be all over his face now, he knows, he fucking knows exactly how to make you fall apart and he just keeps going. Your brain is now ceasing function, the only thoughts being him. Remus motherfucking Lupin and his magic tongue.

“I need-” you whimper, hands tightening in his hair, just enough to make him groan against your swollen folds. You don’t even know what you’re asking for, you just know you need it with a passion.

“Let go.. I dare you.” He utters, the sound of his voice vibrating against you. The smallest part of you that’s still functioning relays his words to the rest of your body, and before you know it, you’re being sent into white hot oblivion, the only thing grounding you being his tongue lapping up everything you give him. Your thighs clamped around his head, your orgasm shredding you apart at the seams. You hadn’t actually had sex with anyone since the last time you saw each other in the summer, and it showed in the way you came so quickly.

You’re fairly positive your legs will never be able to support you again, and when you finally come back down to earth, feeling like jelly as he pulls back, his tongue flicking over his lips to clean off whatever’s left of him, your mind quickly reminds you it’s only fair to return the favor. You were overstimulated to the point of sheer exhaustion, but you wanted to make him feel good, too.

You reach for his trousers, your fingers shaking along with the rest of you, when he holds your wrists gently. You look up at him in utter confusion. “Don’t worry about it.” He shook his head when you protested. “You’re exhausted, Zabini. It’s almost as if you haven’t even been busy since our last encounter.” At his words, you suddenly decide the wall is the most interesting thing in the world to look at.

“You’re kidding.”

“Fuck off.”

“Nobody?”

“For your information, sex simply isn’t on my mind 24/7 like you, you hedonistic pleasure-seeker.” You shot back. But the insult didn’t even register with him, he was too busy staring like a goddamn creep. “No one else since me? Be honest with yourself, you must enjoy my company to an extent.” He stared down at you.

I enjoy your tongue to an extent, Lupin.” You mutter as you pull on your clothes, the first two of your shirt buttons popped off from when he practically ravaged you. You throw him back his jumper and exit swiftly, not giving him a second glance. Before you shut the door after tossing the jumper in his face, you hear him say, “This is going to be a very long year.”

You had never agreed with anything he said quite as much. As you walk back to the compartment, you pass James Potter and Regulus himself walking out of a closet, adjusting themselves.

So that was why he was late. Great.

should i write more?

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imaginedanvrs · 1 year ago

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my demon gave me everything

part 1 | masterlist

summary: dark!natasha romanoff x reader. Natasha Romanoff saves the world. Morals, lifestyle and past aside, the fact is that she puts her life on the line for everyone else. And for this, she believes she’s owed something. She saves billions of lives on the regular, so why not take the occasional one for herself?

word count: 3.7k

warnings: kidnapping, drugging, stalking, character death, obsessive behaviour

“Hi, Peggy,” you greeted the veteran warmly, pulling her from the memories playing before her in the photos by the impeccably made bed. Though the quality of the crumpled papers weren’t the finest of that generation's technology, the scenes that the woman could recall just from a glance at the hazy faces were enough to bring their characters and stories to the present. In the months that you had known Ms Carter, you had spent hours listening to her adventures from the war, enthralled by every word. Of course, you weren’t meant to have favourites, but Peggy’s life had been unmatched, so naturally, her presence was too. You missed her greatly in the months that followed.

“Hello, dear,” Peggy replied with an aged smile. “How are you?” She asked, lifting her hand to you. You took it in your own and rubbed your thumb over the back of her hand with a shake of your head.

“You know that’s what I’m meant to ask you,” you tutted, though of course appreciating the care she showed.

“Yes but I’m not the one on my feet for twelve hours a day,” Peggy was swift to respond.

“And I’m not the one that’s fought in a world war,” you countered, earning a soft chuckle from your resident. You placed her hand back down on the soft sheets gently and set about busying around her room. “I heard Steve’s coming in to see you later,” you said as you began watering some of the pots along the window frame.

“That’s the plan,” Peggy agreed. Of course she understood better than anyone that the job of someone like Steve Rogers meant that plans could be cancelled at a moment's notice. Majority of the time though, he made it. Luckily for the super soldier, the home was discreet enough that he didn’t have to worry about any press or genuine threats interrupting his visits with the woman he loved. The home was tucked away just outside the city and only housed a manageable amount of residents for a small team of staff. It was perfect for a retired war hero, even if she did have some complaints about being in a home to begin with.

“I believe he’s bringing Natasha with him as well,” Peggy added.

“Really? Do I need to get the spare red carpet for her too?” You quipped as you smiled at the last flower pot, fully aware of the look Peggy was sending your way.

“Now dear, don’t you start making a fuss too. You’re the only one who doesn’t treat them like a touring rock band.” Peggy sighed. “You’ll give them a complex.” At this, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bit dramatic, don’t you think?” You chuckled as you folded and put away the cardigan that wouldn’t be needed for the rest of that day.

“I don’t think so, dear. Things aren’t how they used to be, you know?” You smiled as the familiar rant about the changing world started again. “When me and Steve fought, we fought for freedom and only that. Now you have so many so-called ‘super heroes’ out there showing off their gifts for the crowds instead of using it for good. And that’s not even the worst of it. I’m sure some are all together corrupt,” she said with a disappointed frown. “Steve earned his abilities because he’s a good man but there are some that-” Peggy’s rant was cut off by the chesty coughs that stole her breath. She leaned forward to best support herself as you grabbed her glass of water and knelt besides her, masking my worries as best you could. It was easy for you both to forget the veterans age and limits.

“Take it easy,” you encouraged with a gentle hand on her back. Peggy gratefully took the water and allowed it to ease her irritated throat before leaning back into her bed with a tired sigh. “Okay?”

“Best I’ve ever been,” you hummed and refilled her glass before setting it on the bedside table again.

You took Peggy’s hand in my own once again and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I should hope so, you have to come with me next time I go back to England,” you said matter of factly. Prompting Peggy to chuckle, more than happy to go along with the fantasy.

“Ah yes, I still haven’t met the queen and she’s been on the throne almost as long as I’ve been alive,” Peggy exclaimed.

“Would be pretty nice if she could pay for our plane tickets,” you added to which the older woman continued to chuckle just as a light knock could be heard from the other side of her door.

“Come in,” she invited, the hope in her voice clear and thankfully rewarded when Steve poked his head around the door with a broad smile to the older woman that he extended to you after a second. You placed Peggy’s hand back to her bed just as a shorter woman crept in behind Steve.

“Oh Steve,” Peggy beamed with a twinkle in her eye she reserved solely for the Captain.

“Hey Peggy, how’s my favourite girl?” He greeted, his eyes just as full of love as Peggy’s as he knelt down where you had been a second before. “Hi, y/n,.” he said, his voice still nurturing.

“Heya Steve,” you smiled back and glanced away from their embrace. Too often did you try to live through them in hopes of experiencing a love nearly as strong as theirs some day.

You glanced towards the silent woman who was already looking at you with interest. “Hi,” you muttered, finding it near impossible to hold such an intense gaze for more than a couple seconds - not that you were the first to find difficulty in making eye contact with the world’s greatest assassin, of course. She was the Black Widow. For a second you had to remind yourself that she was a good guy and that you had nothing to worry about.

“Hi,” she replied, a friendly smile taking over her features so smoothly you wondered if it was sincere.

“I’ll leave you guys to it in a minute but before I go, Peggy, are you comfortable?” You asked. “Not too hot?” You knew the older woman didn’t like to make a fuss and that if you didn’t ask then, she wouldn’t say anything until her visitors left.

“A little,” you were glad to hear her admit, “perhaps there’s no need for the extra blanket.” You nodded in agreement and took the extra blanket off her bed and put it away in her cupboard to grab again before the night. “Thank you, dear,” Peggy said with a grateful nod.

“No problem, just shout if you need anything,” you said as always as you made your way out the room and shut the door behind you, unaware of the eyes that followed you the whole way.

Natasha didn’t believe in any kind of instant connection. She had never looked at someone and felt a desperate need to have them, kiss them, date them, fuck them. It had simply never occurred and she didn’t believe it happened to others. She believed anything remotely close to ‘love at first sight’ was some bullshit horny people told lonely people in order to get in their pants faster. You were no exception.

What Natasha did experience was interest. Interest of woman she would typically define as her ‘type’. It wasn’t that she saw a hot woman and wanted to fuck them, instead, Natasha saw fragile women and wanted to break them. She wanted to surgically remove every part of them that made them the picture of innocence and ruin it. Because no two people are the same. No two people can have that many overlapping traits. Everyone was unique which meant everyone had a unique way to be broken, that was what sparked Natasha’s interest.

In less than a minute in the same room as you, the spy had watched how you interacted with Peggy, a vulnerable lady that you had ensured the comfort of. She had watched how unfazed you were by two superheroes that many had paid thousands just to shake hands with. It had sparked her interest and made her wonder how you would respond to numerous scenarios. She wondered what you would look like when your mind and body had been broken, if it would be any different than the women before.

The one thing Natasha knew for sure was that she was going to find out.

Peggy’s death came two weeks later. Steve couldn’t be there at the end but he thanked you that you were. You held her hand as she passed and told her it was okay, managing to hold back your tears until her final breath. You all knew this meant she wouldn’t have to suffer anymore, but the absence of her presence was felt across the home and would for a while.

The funeral was a blur, a lot of people were invited, unsurprisingly. Peggy had touched many lives that you were beyond grateful to receive an invitation yourself, even if you didn’t know anyone there except for Steve who had enough people to greet. You stuck to the back of the hall and made small talk with a few people and managed to hold back tears until the end of service when you snuck away to the bathroom.

After ten minutes of hardly effective breathing exercises you found on the internet, you made your way back out, hoping to say goodbye to Steve before you left but figured he had to leave early as he was nowhere to be found. You tried to make an unnoticed exit but the small touch to your back told you that you failed in that. You spun around to see Natasha with that same, slightly off, smile you hadn’t forgotten..

“Hey,” she greeted, putting her hands back into the pockets of a coat that probably cost more than a year's worth of your salary. To be fair, she saves the world.

“Hey yourself,” you said with a weary smile, hoping your eyes weren’t too red from crying. She looked perfect.

“Y/n, right?” She tested.

“Yeah and you’re… Natasha was it?” You tested back, making the redhead’s smile become more real.

“That’s me,” she chuckled. You eased up slightly, finding her presence less intimidating than your last meeting. “How are you? I mean, how are you doing?” She continued, her softer gaze becoming more watchful again. You wondered then if that was just her way of showing she was listening and giving her full attention.

“I’m alright,” you lied. Natasha noted it internally. “How are you? How’s Steve?” Another note.

“I didn’t know her all that well but Steve’s not having the easiest time.” You nodded, recalling the affection that never faltered when he looked at Peggy. “He’ll be okay though, he’s a tough guy.”

“Is he here?” You skimmed the faces in the crowd once more but still couldn’t find the blond.

“No, he had to go,” Natasha said.

“He doesn’t need you to help save the world with him?” you teased to try and distract from the resurfacing raw funeral feelings.

“It’s not bad enough to require my skill set,” the spy quipped with some undisguised smugness. You hummed. That was pretty hot. “So seeing as there’s nothing that requires my immediate attention, you need a ride home?” Natasha offered with expecting eyes.

“Thank you, but I can just order an uber I’m not too far-”

“Then you won’t be out of my way then,” Natasha called over her shoulder as she headed for what you could only guess was the flashiest car on the grounds and left no room for arguing. You trailed along behind her as Natasha opened the eagle doors from her keys while you pretended not to be completely awestruck by the vehicle and its driver.

“So was this a gift from Nick Fury or…?” You asked as the spy revved the engine and swiftly made her way out of the parking area and started on the long lane out of the grounds.

“You could say that,” she smirked, making you wonder if there was a story behind the car's ownership. “Do you drive?” The redhead asked instead.

“Um, no. Haven’t really gotten around to it, you know, what with moving here a year ago from England and all.” You admitted in a quick attempt to cover the embarrassment you always felt when people asked.

“That’s fair.” Natasha nodded understandably. “Besides, what are you? Twenty?” She continued with her eyes staying on the road.

“Nineteen,” you corrected. Natasha hummed and you suddenly wondered how old the Avenger was. Definitely not too old for you to see her as attractive but probably too old for her to see you as attractive, as if that were ever a possibility.

Once you reached the main gates to the grounds, Natasha pulled up her screens map and asked you to put your address in then continued on in that direction.

“So how long are you planning on staying in the states?” The spy inquired.

“My visa doesn’t actually last much longer than a year so I’ll have to head back home soon.” You explained, counting down the weeks before your flight.

“Oh? You reckon you’ll come back?” Natasha continued, stopping herself from pushing as much as she wanted to.

“I’m not sure yet. I mean it’s pretty nice here but it’s not home, you know? That’s where I want to be.”

“Yeah, nothing beats that,” the older woman muttered. You were about to ask Natasha about her own home when the car pulled to a stop outside your three story apartment building. “But I suppose this is it for now.”

“Pretty different to yours, I bet,” you mused, only imagining the kind of place she lived.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Natasha chuckled.

“Kinda,” you admitted with a light laugh as you got out of the fancy car. “Well, thanks for the ride, it was fun,” you smiled gratefully towards the redhead.

“Anytime,” she winked and sped away once you were a couple steps back. As you watched her go, you assumed that would be the last time you ever saw Natasha Romanoff.

It’s pretty nice but it’s not home. That’s where I want to be.

Natasha had pondered on that as she pulled into the rusting garage, only being lit by the glow from the inside of her car. She tapped her steering wheel and considered what that meant for her. It meant you were going back to England and you probably weren’t coming back. The redhead hummed as she pulled up your visa on her tablet, seeing the expiration date was only a couple months time and concluded you could be leaving any day between now and then. When she returned home she would find what date you had booked your flight for so she could know for sure.

That was new. The spy had never faced a deadline with any of the past women. It was exciting, adding a new risk she hadn’t encountered before. It made the challenge all the more enticing. With that on her mind, Natasha left the garage through the back door and had to give it several kicks when shutting it back into place.

Shit hole.

The building wasn’t really that bad, more just a little run down because it was in the forgotten part of town, just outside the busy city that had no time to acknowledge it. Natasha, being far more used to her luxury penthouse suite in the heart of New York, thought it was below her and couldn’t wait to show you just how differently she lived.

Once the redhead made her way up to the top floor, and assuring no one was around to see, she slipped inside the empty one bedroom apartment and headed straight for the window at the opposite end of the living space. Sitting in the sturdy foldable chair, Natasha peered through the S.H.I.E.L.D issued camera that was already staring right into your bedroom window down the street.

You were crying again. Natasha tutted. She had liked getting a sneak peak at how you looked when you cried the first time, but had since grown irritated that she wasn’t the one causing those tears to fall. It made her agitated and grew her need to have you.

When you finally took your shirt off, the spy’s interest peaked again and she gave a light groan. It was only the second time seeing you without it and the first time had only been through your webcam. You usually knew to close your curtains when getting changed but the emotions clouded your better judgement.

Such a dumb pup.

You dipped out of view to remove your bra so Natasha switched tabs on her laptop to peer through yours. Turned off. She switched to my phone. In another room.

“Fuck,” Natasha huffed, pulling a cigarette from its packet on the windowsill and grabbing the lighter from her pocket. She held the flame against the end and waited for the orange glow to send off its small grey whisps.

The Avenger had put cameras in some of the other women’s apartments, but given that she was able to see through several of your windows from across the street, she didn’t deem it necessary for you. She preferred it that way. She wasn’t exactly desperate to see you naked. That wasn’t a big part of it. She just wanted to see you. She enjoyed learning your small habits from afar, they would help in a few days. She enjoyed seeing you all on your own and knew it bothered you. You craved companionship and it would make you more open to hers the more desperate you got. It was just a shame she couldn’t drag it out for longer.

When you reappeared, you were in my unicorn pjs. Natasha smiled at the innocence of it all. Nineteen. The redhead didn’t usually go for women that young but you were an adult by law so she deemed it okay. Besides, she knew of your exes. She knew that older women were your type and that thirty definitely wasn’t too old. The spy also knew those exes were inadequate and what Natasha could offer you was something you had yet to experience from anyone, even them. She wondered just how badly you craved it and how soon you would admit it to her.

All that mattered was that you would never experience it from anyone else.

Several days passed since Peggy’s funeral and things were returning to how they were before you met the veteran. Her room at the home was still empty and you hoped it would be until you left. That would always be Peggy’s room. Thankfully, you were able to distract yourself throughout your working days by completing unnecessary tasks to make the day go quicker and stop your mind wandering too much to how lonely you were again. Peggy had been a friend, granted an unlikely one but a friend at that.

You were able to keep yourself preoccupied outside of work too. Whenever the weather permitted, you headed out into the parks in town with your sketchbook and spent hours, sometimes most of the day, doodling pretty much anything you could see. The crowds of flowers around the edges of the park; the moments different wildlife crosses paths; the unique landscapes when the city turned to town; the families and couples enjoying the last of the summer. Everything had a spot in your nearly full sketchbook that you had gotten especially for your trip. You were hoping to recreate them digitally when you got home.

The silver lining in it all was that you slept soundlessly through the nights. From the moment your head hit the pillow you were fast asleep and woke up feeling refreshed until grief gave you a sudden slap. But it wasn’t just you that benefited from my new found deep sleeping habits. In fact, it was what made Natasha able to make her move so fast.

It was 3:36 when the spy stepped foot in your apartment. She crept around without a single breath to be heard and peered around the studio apartment. Due to the layout, Natasha was able to see your sleeping frame as soon as she stepped into your living space. You were of course sound asleep when she saw you, but Natasha still noted where the creaky floorboards were and swiftly manoeuvred around your apartment.

The redhead didn’t make her way immediately to you as she knew you wouldn’t stir. Instead, she took some time to feed her curiosity and opened the cupboards in the kitchen she hadn’t been able to see. You had a lot of snacks, most of which Natasha didn’t approve of, and less ingredients for actual dinners. She knew you weren’t much of a chef and more often than not just put a collection of snacks on your plate for dinner than cook. The older woman would fix that for you soon enough.

She was pleased to see that you kept the studio pretty much spotless. There was no washing up left out, no crumbs on any surfaces, the floor didn’t need to be moped. She wouldn’t mind if you managed to stay in her home a while.

After a few more minutes of assessing the rest of your living space, Natasha continued back to you and hovered over your sleeping body for a while, knowing you wouldn’t have a rest this peaceful for a while. Luckily she had something to make sure you could make the most of it. The syringe in the leather pocket was only a slim one with a needle small enough that you wouldn’t feel it in your sleep. She traced along your neck with the back of her finger before sinking the needle in and flushing the liquid into your system, ensuring you would be no trouble when getting home.

“That’s it, detka,” Natasha cooed when you turned onto your side facing her and nuzzled further into your pillow. She leant down and placed a gentle kiss on your temple and the trace of a smile fluttered across your lips. “Get lots of rest.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #dark!natasha x reader #dark!fic #dark!marvel

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triforce-of-mischief · 30 days ago

Text

Patience and Grace

Summary: Link doesn't want to see any more kids live with the same fear he spent years learning how to overcome. His methods are… questionable, but worth it in the end.

Words: 2600

Warnings: childhood/medical trauma, child/medical abuse, some descriptions of needles, morally correct kidnapping

Notes: Post- LU and Overcome, Legend/Link is probably in his early-mid twenties

AO3

Please reblog to show your support! Likes do nothing on their own.

Even now, years after Link had gone through rounds of exposure and healing, visiting the Kakariko doctor’s office sent a shiver down his spine that had- well, almost- nothing to do with the stethoscope pressed to his back. He would’ve been more than happy to avoid the place for the rest of his life, but Zelda still pushed him to make infrequent visits for his mental and physical health. The next nearest doctor was too far away to be convenient, even if it represented less traumatic memories.

Link wondered if it had been this very room, where that group of callous adults had overpowered him in the name of efficiency. He imagined that he could still hear his own terrified screams.

The nurse’s ear twitched in the same direction as his, and he realized that, while they were not his, the screams were very much real.

“The walls are so thin,” the nurse sighed, then reached for an empty space on a side table. “Oh, for Nayru’s sake- I’ll be back in a minute, Link, I forgot your files.”

Link nodded, barely registering the words as all he could hear was the commotion from the other room. It was a kid for sure, growing more frantic by the second. Link’s heart twisted with sympathy and fear, and his hand absently went to the golden bracelet on his wrist.

If he walked out the door, the nurse would herd him back in an instant. He hadn’t planned on going back to old habits, but if he just sat around while the kid-

A crash and an adult’s shout answered that question before his mind had even formed it, and a flash of magic flattened him into the wall. He shimmied down the hallway and around a corner, popping back out in front of the door where the yelling was loudest.

Link took a deep breath- he only had time for one- and knocked on the door. The screams didn’t abate in the slightest, but a deeper voice called permission. It was all that Link needed, and he entered the room with a show of confidence that he belonged.

Just as he suspected- no less than four adults were crowded around the examination table, leaving just enough room for a nurse who wore a fresh bruise on their cheek and held a syringe in their hand. Link could barely make out the kid pinned under too many hands, gasping for air during the unexpected respite. Link tore his eyes away; he had to deal with the others first.

It helped that he was an adult now, too.

“Hey,” Link said with a little wave, all too casual. “Sounds like you need some help?”

The nurse glared suspiciously at him. “We have this under control, it’s a routine procedure. Aren’t you a patient as well?”

“Indeed I am,” Link replied. “I also happen to be the Hero, and I wanted to offer assistance in the way of magic.”

He pulled a simple ocarina from the pouch at his belt, holding it like it wielded great power.

“Why pick a fight when you can simply put them to sleep? All I have to do is play a short tune and your day will be so much easier,” Link said smoothly.

The kid gave another panicked cry, but Link kept his gaze on the nurse.

“He is more trouble than he’s worth,” the nurse agreed slowly. “All right, play your magic song and get this over with.”

“Gladly. Mind stepping out of the room for a minute? I can’t control the range of the spell and I assume that you would rather be awake to do your part,” Link explained.

The nurse shrugged and nodded, then gestured for the rest of the adults to file out of the room.

“I’ll let you know when,” Link promised, then the door closed and he was alone with the kid.

Finally, Link was able to take the time to properly see the kid. A small boy, probably younger than Link himself had been. Most of them were, he thought bitterly, but he shook the thought away. He was here for the kid.

The kid had, understandably, pressed himself to the wall and stuck his fingers in his ears, staring at the ocarina like it would leap out and bite him itself. Link smiled at him and dropped the ocarina back into the pouch. He plopped down on the floor and signed “Hello.”

The kid stared at Link’s hand and cautiously removed his fingers from his ears so Link could whisper out loud to him.

“Hello,” Link repeated. “My name is Link. What’s your name?”

“…Benji,” the boy mumbled through chattering teeth.

“Benji. It’s nice to meet you. Are you scared?” Link asked gently.

Benji made a face like Link had just asked if the sky was blue. Hesitantly, he nodded.

“Would you like to not be?”

Benji nodded again, more urgently this time.

“I’m going to grab a few more of my things,” Link explained. “They’re going to help me get you out of here, then I can help you not be scared. Is that okay?”

At Benji’s confirmation, Link flourished a bright red cape and and a pair of winged boots. He swapped out his ordinary boots for the magic ones as Benji slowly slid down from the table and reached for the cape.

“We’re going to have to be quick and quiet,” Link said. “I have to carry you for this to work, but you can tell me to put you down as soon as we’re safe.”

Link climbed onto the table to silently open the window above it. He made sure that the cape was secure around Benji’s shoulders (he knew because he could no longer see the kid) before he leapt back down and slammed the door open.

“He jumped right out the window before I could finish the song!” Link shouted, secretly pleased at his ability to fake a shortness of breath. “I had no idea a kid could even do that- I think he ran that way, through the village!” He pointed west, to Kakariko proper.

The adults scrambled to run outside and begin their wild goose chase, and Link allowed himself a grin as he turned to the seemingly empty room.

“Hurry now, come here,” Link said, holding his arms out for an invisible mass to barrel into him. Hugging the kid tight, Link sent a signal to his pegasus boots and ran down the hall, out of the clinic, and due east. Benji’s fingers dug into his shoulders as he ran, but he squirmed free of Link’s arms as soon as they reached his house.

“This is my home,” Link said, taking the cape to stuff it back in his bag. “We can’t stay for too long, but you’re safe here.”

He opened the front door and the resident feathery menace flew out to greet them. Benji yelped, then giggled as the little white bird immediately set to preening his hair.

“That’s Sheerow,” Link sighed. “Sheerow, since you’re here, does that mean-”

“Link? You’re home already? Did everything go okay?” Ravio called from inside the house, his voice growing louder as he hurried to greet Link himself.

Sheerow squawked as Benji ducked behind Link, hiding when Ravio came into view. Ravio put his hands on his hips, fixing a playfully stern glare on Link.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or have you brought another child to our home?”

“I didn't have a choice!” Link protested, his tone just as light. “You know how it is, Ravi, I can't leave them there frightened and alone!”

“Yes, I know,” Ravio agreed, stepping closer to kiss Link’s cheek. “I’m just worried that one of these days you’re going to get in trouble for kidnapping the village children.”

“It’s a morally correct kidnapping,” Link grumbled, but Ravio had already knelt to offer his hand to Benji.

“Hello there,” the merchant said kindly. “I’m Ravio, Link’s partner. It’s a pleasure to have you here.”

Benji looked nervously at Link, then with the help of an encouraging smile he took Ravio’s hand. Ravio stood, still holding the boy’s hand, and turned to lead him into the house. “I sliced some apples, Link, if you’d like to make a pie while you talk.”

Link caught Ravio’s face as he passed, pressing his own kiss to his partner’s nose. “Thanks, Ravi. You’re the best.”

“I know,” Ravio chirped, and took them all to the kitchen.

“Mister Link?” Benji said as they lined up to wash their hands. “I have a question…”

“Go for it, kid.”

“Why are you helping me when everybody else was mean?”

Link stared at the soap on his hands for a few moments too long. “Because people were mean to me, too. And I don’t like seeing kids hurt. The best way I can think of to help is to just… bring them here, for a chance to breathe. I wish we had longer, but I'll have to help you as much as I can as quickly as possible. It's easier to focus when you're not at the scary place, but I can't exactly keep you here forever.” He offered a towel to Benji, watching the kid dry his hands. “Does that make sense?”

Benji nodded. “Does that mean I have to go back?”

“Yes, it does. But first I want to talk, and know that I’ve helped you and that you’re ready.”

Ravio showed Benji how to roll out the pie crust while Link looked for the spices for the filling.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” Link said. “Did the doctor explain what they were going to do?”

“No. But my friends said that it hurt, and it was scary, and so it made me scared too. And it was scary not knowing what was happening, too.”

Ravio squeezed Benji’s shoulder, and the kid leaned into the comfort.

“Okay, that’s a good thing to start with,” Link said, stirring the apple slices to coat them with sugar and spices. “So, the doctor and your parents want to make sure you won’t get sick. You take medicine when you get sick, right, a syrup that tastes weird but helps you feel better? It’s like that, but so that you never get sick at all. And you can’t drink it, so they had to find another way to get it into your body.”

Benji had rolled the dough flat, and Ravio draped it over the pie pan. Link poured the filling into the crust, nudging Benji himself after he did so.

“They put the medicine in a little tube with a needle on the end. The needle is hollow, so they stick it through your skin and push the medicine right into your bloodstream. It does hurt, but it only takes a few seconds and you can learn how to make it easier for yourself.”

“Easy?” Benji sounded disbelieving, and Link chuckled as he and Ravio layered the latticed top crust.

“Remember, I used to be afraid too. I still am, a little, but with a lot of time and patience and help from my friends, I learned how to be in control of my fear. I can teach you what I know, and you can try it when I bring you back.”

“The pie needs to bake for an hour,” Ravio said. “That should be plenty of time for you both.”

“Yes, it will,” Link confirmed. “Do you want to sit in the living room, Benji?”

They settled on the couch, where Ravio joined them as soon as the pie was baking. Link tried unsuccessfully to shoo Sheerow away from where the bird was determined to make a nest in Benji’s hair. Sheerow glared at Link, but Benji didn’t seem to mind, so Link sighed and let the bird be.

“If it took you a long time to not be scared, how come I have to go back today?” the kid asked, shrinking into himself.

“If you learn how to be brave the first time, the next will be easier,” Link said gently. “That isn’t how it happened for me, and that’s why I don’t want to see more kids end up like me. It’s not easy to convince parents to wait for another day, so you’ll only have until I bring you back to the clinic, but it’s still more time than you would have had if you had stayed there.”

“Okay,” Benji said quietly, and Link held out his hand for the boy to hold.

“Let’s try breathing, first,” Link said. “If you take deep breaths and count them, your body will relax by itself. Breathe with me, one, two, three…”

Benji did well with the breathing, and they spent much of the hour planning out distractions and what the kid wanted from the adults in the room. By the time Ravio left to take the pie out to cool, Link determined that Benji was as ready as he could be.

“You’re gonna do great, kid,” Ravio said, ruffling Benji’s hair as he saw them to the door. “Come get some pie when you’re done, okay?”

“I will!”

Benji stayed in good spirits as they walked to Kakariko, but he quieted down as they reached the clinic. Link noticed and hugged the boy’s shoulders.

“You’re gonna be fine, alright? I’ll be there the whole time, and they won’t have to fight you anymore.”

“Okay. I trust you,” Benji said, and Link was very proud of the kid he had just met.

His father was waiting inside, and rushed over when Link brought Benji through the door. “You found him! I can’t thank you enough, sir.”

“Happy to help,” Link said. “We had a good talk on the way back. I hope you don’t mind if I join you again.”

“Yes, of course,” the man agreed. “Do you still have that ocarina on you…?”

“We won’t be needing that,” Link said firmly. “Your son is old enough to be reasoned with, so I see no reason why that wouldn’t be the case. He knows what he needs, right Benji?”

“Um… yeah. I can sit still this time, just… can you hug me, Dad? And tell me what’s happening so it’s not as scary?”

Benji’s father blinked in surprise. “That’s all?”

“You don’t conquer fear by ignoring it,” Link said. “You acknowledge it, learn from it, and find support to grow past it. Trust me, I know. It’s a pretty simple lesson, really. And Benji’s at a pretty good age to learn it.”

“Huh. I guess you’re right. Well… are you ready, Benji?” the man asked, and Benji stepped away from Link to stand by his father instead.

“Mhm. I’m gonna be brave.”

Only one nurse was needed this time, and everything went as well as Link could have hoped for. Benji’s father held him the whole time, talking the boy through every step of the process. Link was relieved to see how easily the man comforted him, reassuring Benji that he had been brave even as the kid needed an extra minute to recover from the sting.

“If I may, I’d be happy to invite you to my home,” Link said when everything was done and Benji was calm. “We can talk more, and I have a fresh apple pie that’s begging to be shared.”

“I don’t see why not. Thank you very much, sir,” Benji’s father said, and the boy cheered.

The nurse cleared their throat, and Link remembered belatedly that he had pulled his own stunt earlier that day.

“Right, sorry about that. You two go on ahead, I’ll meet you there.”

It was easy for Link to sit patiently, knowing that he had been able to help a young kid in need. One more person who wouldn’t have to live with that fear, like Link had for most of his life. Sometimes a hero’s job was small, but would still have a big impact.

#linked universe #lu #lu legend #overcome #fable writes #going to my mom's house for dinner so i'd love some nice comments to keep me sane ^^#yes this is the long-teased 'link kidnaps a child' fic

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